


Unsinkable

by Skitz_phenom



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-25
Updated: 2011-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 00:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skitz_phenom/pseuds/Skitz_phenom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rodney talks John into taking a little ride on an Ancient monorail, he ends up somewhere unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsinkable

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2011 [McShep_Match](http://mcshep-match.livejournal.com/) on Livejournal. Team: Team Sheppard, Prompt: Abandon Ship. I want to give special thanks to my wing-sis, [bardicsidhe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Scylla/pseuds/Scylla) , for always being my rock and sounding board, even when fighting off all too real headcrabs; to [hoktauri](http://hoktauri.livejournal.com/) for the beta, cheerleading and all around fantasticness; to [kisahawklin](http://kisahawklin.livejournal.com/) for more moral support and helping me make the right decision that ultimately changed (and fixed) the flow of the story, and to all of Team Sheppard for being awesome.

The moment John lifted his foot over the threshold the floor panels beyond began to emit a bright glow. He slowly stepped into the room, glancing around curiously as lights brightened and the low-level thrum that seemed to permeate the very air intensified. Rodney had been right. This place was just waiting for someone with the gene to come along. It had already been humming and glowing here and there at Rodney's presence, but the dim illumination brightened to a cheery, pinkish-gold hue for John.

"And there he is now," Rodney said from across the room where he was standing at a console. "Colonel Sheppard," he gestured and the half-dozen Caronen scientists turned to stare at John, rapt and eager. "The man clearly knows how to light up a room." He gave John a quick smirk, but it was an amused expression inviting John to share the joke.

John couldn't help but smile. Rodney was in rare form today. He had new and mysterious ancient technology to play with (that didn't seem to want to ascend him or kill him or kill anyone else - so far) and a gaggle of adoring native scientists who seemed to regard him as some kind of mythic demi-god of higher intelligence.

John snorted. Rodney's ego would probably be a bit on the untamed side for a while, though he had to admit to himself, he looked forward to getting to see Rodney bludgeon some of the newest arrivals with it when they got back to the city. He also had to admit that he loved seeing Rodney in his element like this. There was an energy and an exuberance to the other man that John hadn't seen since right after they'd brought the city back to Pegasus. It made John... happy to see his friend just enjoying himself and reveling in science and discovery.

They'd found Carone—M47-139 as it had been designated—after one of the anthropologists who came back to Pegasus with the city was assigned a project direct from the IOA (who had grudgingly allowed the return of the city with the strict instructions that acquisition of new technology was the new prime directive of the mission) to sort some of the planetary data from the Ancients' database, looking specifically for those planets the Ancients had taken a particular interest in.

It took him several weeks and the assistance of a linguist and one of the better programmers, but he'd ranked over three-dozen planets based on what he claimed were some precise algorithms. The first three planets they visited from the list had long since been decimated by time or war or the Wraith. The fourth hadn't evidenced that it had ever supported indigenous life, and a fifth didn't host any Ancient technology, but had been home to an odd species of sentient bear. Carone was the sixth they'd tried - a few obscure references in the database indicating that the Ancients had housed extensive research facilities there - and they hit pay dirt.

The Caronen were a surprisingly advanced civilization, almost the equivalent of twentieth century earth, and apparently hadn't been troubled by the Wraith in centuries. Rodney had postulated that this was due to the fact that the small solar system where Carone resided was neighboring an extensive asteroid field, almost twice as large as the system itself. It would have been a risky journey for a Hive ship.

Their Stargate was orbital, so they hadn't had off-world visitors in many generations. It was unclear whether or not the natives of Carone had been on the planet while the Ancients were still there or if they'd been seeded and sprang up as a culture afterwards, but they'd certainly adapted as much of the Ancients' technology as they were able to access. The one thing they were lacking was the ATA gene.

After the initial surprise at getting visitors from space, the Caronen were quite thrilled to have AR-1 as guests. The team had been treated to receptions and celebratory banquets, and all sorts of tours. After the first day of formal activities, and permission from Woolsey to stay on an extra day, they'd decided to split up and see what kind of ground they could cover. John had left Ronon and Teyla with the First Minister of Agriculture, who was anxious to learn of some of the other farming methods they knew about, and eager to talk trade of seed and foodstuffs.

Once the Caronen had realized that Rodney was a scientist—and a brilliant one at that—they'd been treating him like a dignitary. They wanted him to look at their power plants (hydrology combined with fossil fuels, and oh, boy, did Rodney have lots to say about that) and their educational facilities (he'd lauded their sufficient lab space but bemoaned that there seemed to be more focus on medicine than physics or engineering) and most especially the Ancient facilities they were still working to understand (which was where Rodney was now, lording over all like a mad scientist with his minions).

John was just happy as hell to find a planet that had invented transportation in any form that didn't involve carts or carriages. In fact, there was a well-developed road system throughout the one major city and all the outlying communities. For all the size of their planet and the years since the last culling, their population was still quite low.

In the midst of all the information thrown at him, John had gathered that families were small, and some kind of cultural taboos about having more than one or two children seemed to have taken root. He supposed it was a natural response after a culling; knowing that the Wraith would likely return when the planet repopulated to a certain point would keep be a good reason to keep that population down.

So they had roads, and vehicles to drive on them. They were three-wheeled but very much like mid-to-late 50s cars of Earth in most other respects. It seemed that individual ownership of them was very uncommon, and instead there were several allotted to different housing settlements or workforces or agencies of the government, and also a pretty sophisticated taxi system. In the interest of 'earning the trust of the natives', John had oh so _reluctantly_ agreed to give driving one a try. The Caronen closed down a long, narrow street to traffic of all kinds just so John could test the maximum speed and handling of several different vehicles. It was pretty cool.

But there was only so much joy-riding a man could do, and he figured he really ought to keep an eye on McKay. They didn't seem like a 'steal your scientist' type of people, but it never hurt to be too careful. So when Rodney'd radioed to say he needed Sheppard (specifically his gene) he'd reluctantly left the bare road and three-wheeled autos behind, and had someone guide him over to one of the Ancient facilities the Caronen were studying.

He watched as Rodney explained something on a screen that was moving too fast for John to make out. From the speed at which Rodney talked and the matching poleaxed expressions on the faces of the Caronen scientists, they weren't following along either. Not that they seemed to care.

"You rang, Rodney?" John finally interrupted, when one of the men started to look a little glazed over.

"Yes, yes," Rodney waved him over. "I may be on to something very interesting." When John reached him, the Caronen moving a respectful distance away, he peered over Rodney's shoulder at the screen that Rodney was gesturing to. "Remember those odd readings that we got from the surface when we flew in?"

John nodded. They'd taken the Jumper in from the orbital gate and a scan had shown not only the city they were now exploring with its eager and friendly citizens, but an odd tracing of some kind of metallic structures that spider-webbed across the entire northern continent. They'd both speculated a transit system of some kind, but hadn't seen evidence of one being in use so far. And considering the Caronen were extremely anxious to show them just about everything they could think of about their planet, he suspected it would have come up earlier.

"Well, we were right. Definitely some kind of transportation tracks." The screen showed a topographical map of the continent and the lines of track were lit up—mostly in a bright green, though there were sections here and there that were blue and blinking. "But when we suspected mass-transit, I don't think we were quite right." He pointed to a hub where three sets of green lines came together. "I think these are different ancient outposts or research stations, and this is some kind of automated rail system designed to allow for travel between stations for periodic monitoring."

"Cool," John said, because it was. He studied the map and if each 'hub' represented some kind of research outpost, there were almost a dozen of them.

Rodney raised a finger. "Ah, but look at this." He did something to the screen that caused it to zoom in to one of the hubs, and pointed.

"Does that say...?"

Rodney beamed. "ZedPM, yes! Or, well. The Ancient equivalent of it." He bounced on his heels slightly.

They still had two ZPMs on Atlantis. When the super-hive ship had attacked earth and the team on Atlantis had risked trying Rodney's experimental worm-hole travel to save the planet, they'd burned up an entire ZPM to do so (Rodney had since crunched all the data from that trip and swore he could get power consumption down to manageable levels. Even so, they'd brought the city back to Pegasus the old-fashioned, hyper-space way). They were currently operating on two mostly charged ZPMs and the urgency with which they used to seek out the energy sources wasn't nearly as imperative as it used to be.

Still, the thought of being able to have a third ZPM and operating at full capacity, or even a spare wasn't something they could ignore. Plus, John figured even if they learned how to _manufacture_ ZPMs themselves, he'd still always feel that instinctual jolt of excitement when they caught wind of one.

"So let's get the Jumper and head over there."

Rodney frowned. "Ah, just one problem with that, Colonel." Again he manipulated the screen. Now it showed a profile view of the hub. "It's underground, and I don't know if we could access it from above ground."

John frowned for a moment, and then he remembered what they were looking at. "What about the..."

As always, Rodney was right there with him. "Right. The transit system. That's what I was thinking too." He changed the view on the screen back to the overlay of the whole system, and poked a finger at one of the blinking blue sections. "Now, I'm thinking that this shows the status of the rails, or tracks. Green meaning functional and blue indicating some kind of problem."

He gave John a sideward, sheepish grin. "To be honest, I've only just begun to look into how these things work . I don't think it's like a traditional rail system, though. I believe it runs somewhat analogous to a magnetic rail." He waved the topic away. "Either way, we'd still have to find the 'train cars' that utilize the tracks, for lack of a better term."

"Wait a sec, Rodney," he hated to interrupt, but he recognized the zeal in Rodney's eyes. If he wasn't careful, Rodney would try to barrel right over him with plans and ideas. And the real problem wasn't so much that he'd do so, but that John would let him. "I'm seeing a lot of blinking blue on that map. And there doesn't appear to be a direct route to the ZPM station." He could trace paths along the green lines and get there eventually, but it was like navigating a maze.

"Right, right. I know that." Despite his agreement, he didn't seem too concerned. He zoomed the screen on another station. "I thought we'd start by getting to this one." There was a slyness to his expression that John found both alarming and ridiculously endearing. He knew when Rodney was playing him, but he really didn't care. The results were almost always worthwhile.

John peered at the text overlaid on the schematic of the station. There was a reason Rodney thought it would pique his interested. And oh yeah, there it was. That word right there was Ancient for 'weapon'. He couldn't help the grin that curved across his lips. The man certainly knew what would catch his eye.

Rodney recognized his capitulation for what it was even before he said anything, and began to bark orders at the Caronen scientists. They didn't seem to mind his brusque tone and were already eagerly nodding and taking notes.

"Wait, wait, wait," John interrupted. The Caronen looked somewhat taken aback—geez Rodney had these guys salivating at his every word—but Rodney just paused and looked at him expectantly. "How are we going to get there, Rodney?"

"Oh!" Rodney again looked sheepish. "The train car of course. That's why you're here Colonel. From what First Associate Treyna..."

"Tranya," the man corrected, quite timidly.

"Right, Associate Tranya here tells me that there's another chamber below this one." John was kind of impressed that Rodney actually corrected himself. Usually he just waved away things like names and niceties. "Based on the size, and the fact that it's a source point for the rail line, it's very likely that the actual transport vehicle is housed there. That's why I needed you, Colonel." He turned to gesture at a control panel. "My artificial expression of the ATA gene doesn't seem to be strong enough to activate this."

John gave a mock-sigh. "You only ever need me for my magic-touch, McKay. I'm starting to feel like the rest of me is extraneous."

Rodney grinned at him, and it was the playful, knowing one that both thrilled him and made him panic a little. Because sometimes he was absolutely sure that Rodney knew what lay at the heart of his banter.

"How wrong you are, Colonel," Rodney quipped, "sometimes it's your mind I'm after too. But," he acknowledged with a widening of the smirk, "not this time." He stepped aside. "Activate that control switch right there, would you?"

John did as he was instructed. As was often the case when he interacted with Ancient devices, he 'felt' it when the controls responded to his touch and thought. A metallic, scraping noise sounded from the far side of the room and John looked up to see a wall panel sliding open.

"Oh, what do we have here." Rodney was off and exploring before John could even get a cautioning word out.

John hurried to follow after, and had to push past the flocking Caronen. "McKay, hold up."

Rodney turned to him from inside the small room that had been revealed, grinning toothily. "It's a transporter, Colonel."

Well, so it was. He figured it couldn't hurt to check it out, but John was going along. He stepped inside next to the other man and while Rodney was explaining the function of transporters to the scientists, he studied the interface display on the back wall. It was much smaller than the ones on Atlantis, and looked to only have one transport point. Easy enough to choose where to go, then.

"We ready to go?" John asked a few minutes later, once the scientists had stopped squabbling amongst themselves about who was going to get to go along on the first trip. Normally John would have preferred not to bring civilians, but it was their planet and they were here at the Caronen's pleasure. First Associate Tranya finally stepped inside with them—looking especially pleased—and Rodney quickly pressed the destination pad.

After the familiar sensation of flipping in his lower belly, John faced the door as it slid open. "Holy crap!"

His sentiment was similarly echoed by Rodney, "Wow. That's just... wow."

The object of their extreme fascination was a sleek, almost Puddle Jumper-shaped shuttle car. Half of the front and top was a solid piece of some kind of clear material and there were small, but obvious engines jutting off the back. It was resting over the tracks on retractable struts.

"So I'd say we found the subway car."

"Yeah, I'd say so," Rodney agreed with a grin.

He shared a look with John and it was another that John was wholly familiar with. It was asking permission and forewarning John all at once that he wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer. And damn if John couldn't bring himself _to_ say no in the face of it. "Alright, McKay," he relented, "you can check it out." Truth was, he wanted to check it out for himself. Why did the thing have engines like that if it was just supposed to follow along a pre-existing track? He thought it might be neat if they were some kind of rocket booster. Then, after images popped into his head of Wile E. Coyote strapping himself to a rocket and then crashing headlong into a cliff, he amended the thought. Maybe not so neat.

Rodney sent Tranya back up to get the rest of the group (who were equally astonished by the transporter as they were by the vehicle) and then immediately got to work. The technology was Ancient and familiar enough that Rodney could interface his tablet quite readily. While John checked out the controls, Rodney ran data.

Again, being Ancient in design, John found the controls to be pretty intuitive. He accessed the interface and a HUD popped up much like it did on the Jumper. A few times Rodney asked him to power something up so he could get readings, but mostly he either talked to himself, or ordered around the scientists. It provided a familiar and comforting background noise.

"Ohh, this is cool."

"What's that?" John asked immediately. He tended to agree with Rodney at where things landed on the cool spectrum.

"I was correct earlier that it's much more like a maglev train than a traditional rail. There's no physical contact between the car and the track though." He held up his hands to demonstrate, placing one palm side up and the other over it, palm side down with an inch of space between. "It hovers independently and utilizes an electromagnetic propulsion system that is generated concurrently by the car and a magnetic coil in the rail. From what I can gather, the rails also act as conduits for power generation at the hub facilities." He lifted twinkling eyes to John. "Its top speed is 392 kilometers per hour, or for the American in the room, 244 miles per hour."

"That is way cool," John had to agree. He may have been beaming just a little bit.

Rodney raised a finger. "And," he went on in that significant tone he had, "the Ancients apparently planned for situations such as inaccessibility or damage to the tracks. That's what the external engines are for. They allow for short bursts of un-magnetized travel. The propulsion system is actually quite similar to a Puddle Jumper's, but on a smaller scale."

John frowned. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, it can't leave orbit if that's what you're thinking, Colonel. I don't think there'd even be enough fuel for travel of any sustained distance. Its purpose is to allow the craft to essentially skip over any sections of track that it can't successfully navigate."

Rodney tapped a few more times on the screen of his tablet and then nodded. "Okay, I've confirmed the velocity and travel time to get to both the weapons facility and the ZPM station, allowing for sufficient research at each." He hesitated slightly. "Um, looks like we'd be talking six and a half hours travel time, one way."

John frowned. That was quite a bit longer than he'd expected. "Is there any way we can take the Jumper to a closer hub that's above ground?"

Rodney shook his head. "I've already factored for the ones that are above ground accessible. I can't cut it down any more than that. Plus, there's no guarantee that any of the other hubs actually have a rail car available."

John's frown deepened, but Rodney had a point. Even if they could get to one of the closer hubs via Jumper, it'd be pointless if there wasn't a car waiting. The question now was whether or not they'd take the six and a half hour trip in a ten-thousand year old rail car over extremely questionable tracks laid down just as early, on what could be a wild goose chase.

Oh hell, John knew he'd give it a try.

There were potentially weapons and possibly a ZPM waiting for them. This was just the kind of thing that he and Rodney lived for.

He just needed to call Woolsey and get the go ahead. He left Rodney still puttering and throwing out answers to the seemingly endless questions the Caronen were lobbing at him, and headed to the Jumper to dial the gate and make contact with Atlantis.

John liked Woolsey and even respected him. The man had grown as a person and as a boss while on Atlantis. Woolsey had been their staunchest ally in getting the city back to Pegasus—he was a genius with all the bureaucratic red-tape and IOA hoops they'd needed to jump through. John _also_ knew how to manipulate the conversation to get Woolsey to agree to almost anything.

He used to feel guilty trying it with Elizabeth, and it had been more of a game with Carter (because she was used to his kind of bullshit after having been teamed up with the likes of O'Neill and Mitchell), but it almost felt like part of the routine with Woolsey. The man probably knew exactly what John was doing and was letting him get away with it. Which was fine with John, so long as he _did_ get away with it.

Rodney hadn't even look concerned when John told him he was going to contact Woolsey for approval. He took it for granted that John would come back with positive results. He'd just grinned and told him to hurry it up.

As predicted, Woolsey expressed some concern, but after John explained what they were going after and gave it enough of a spin to minimalize the risk, Woolsey agreed. It helped that Caronen were a little bit hung upon things like hierarchy and ceremony and they desperately wanted to meet with the 'Wise and Dignified Leader of Atlantis' to establish formal trade agreements; John may have mentioned that phrase more than once during their conversation.

"Woolsey gave the go ahead," he told McKay when he came back from his trip to the Jumper. He stowed some of the extra 'just in case' gear he'd grabbed at the back of the car.

"You used the 'wise and dignified leader' line on him, didn't you?"

John's grin was unrepentant. "Twice."

Rodney chuckled. "Ronon and Teyla coming?"

"Nah, Teyla's deep in discussions regarding some kind of lentils or something, that she thinks would be great for the Athosians to start cultivating. And Ronon doesn't wanna spend six hours cooped up with you." His grin got a little smirky.

"Oh ha, ha." Rodney just rolled his eyes.

"Actually, Ronon has apparently been introduced to some kind of sporting event they've got here. Said it reminds him of a contest they used to have on Sateda. From what he described it sounds kinda like a cross between rugby and bowling." He shrugged when Rodney just gave him a look. It had sounded pretty interesting. Maybe not Football levels of interesting, but still like it might be fun to check out. After they found Ancient weapons and a ZPM, of course.

"How we doin' here?" he asked, once again peering over Rodney's shoulder. He didn't know what he was looking at; and if he were honest with himself, he wasn't really looking at the open crystal compartment anyway. He liked getting into Rodney's space, and having an excuse to do so. If Rodney knew that, he never called John on it.

" _We_ are doing just fine, Colonel. In fact, _we_ are ready to go." Rodney told him, shouldering back just a little to nudge John out of the way while he moved to study a different set of crystals. "This whole set up," he turned, again physically bumping into John to move him out of the way so he could gesture with both arms at the interior of the shuttle car, "is remarkably simplistic for the Ancients. Well, if you exclude the fact that it requires the gene for activation."

"For all intents and purposes otherwise, it is exactly what it purports to be. A subway." He almost looked a little put out. John absolutely did not find that cute.

"Well let's get our tickets and get on board. Whaddya say?"

Rodney attempted an imperious glower, but it was belied by the quirking at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, yes. Let's get going."

John slid into the pilot's chair. It was actually more comfortable than the seats in the Jumper. Unusually for the Ancients, they seemed to have designed with form and fit as well as function in mind.

Rodney settled in the seat next to him, eyes on his tablet. John looked behind them at the emptying space. The scientists were setting some things down in the cargo area, but then exiting the ship. "Aren't any of the Caronen coming along?" he asked.

"Apparently not." Rodney's reply was distracted. He was studying something on the screen, reaching up to tap at it now and again. "They've got some kind of weird hang-up about leaving the borders of the city." He looked up finally and glanced around to make sure they were alone. "And frankly, I'm kind of relieved," he said pitching his voice low. "They're almost a bit too sycophantic. I didn't think that would be possible."

John grinned. "Too sycophantic for you, McKay? I didn't think I'd see the day either."

He got the expected glare in response followed by, "well, I can't blame them for appreciating genius. " The conspiratorial tone in his voice softened even further. "I think they're also scared to come with us. Sounds like most of them spend time cooped up in labs, and don't get into the field. This might have been too much for them to handle." He shook his head like that was an incomprehensible concept.

"So we get to be their guinea pigs, huh?"

Rodney nodded. "Seems that way." He tapped a few more times at the screen. "We should be ready to get underway anytime."

John swiveled his chair forward as he brought up the HUD and initiated the power-up sequence. He tapped his radio, "Ronon, Teyla, this is Sheppard."

"Yes, John," Teyla's voice sounded in his ear. A click and grunt of breath followed a moment later. "I believe that Ronon is also on," Teyla added, sounding bemused.

"McKay and I are gonna take this subway car for a ride. We'll be out of radio range for a few hours, but hopefully once we reach one of the hub stations we'll be able to get back in touch. If you don't hear from us in say..." he thought about the trip for a second—six plus hours to get to the ZPM station, six to get back, plus time allowed for checking out the stations—and pulled a number out of the air, "fourteen hours, contact Atlantis and have Woolsey get Lorne and his team ready in a Jumper. Then give us another two hours after that, before you call them in."

"Understood, John." Teyla replied.

Ronon just grunted again.

"You sure you guys don't wanna come along?" he wheedled. He was honestly kind of torn between hoping they'd say no, and hoping they'd change their minds. "Don't know what you're missing." Rodney eyed him strangely from the passenger seat, but didn't say anything.

Teyla's smile could be heard in her reply. "Thank you, but I believe I'll pass. First Minister Dorton and I are making significant progress in our discussions. I'm sure you and Rodney can manage."

"Already told you... I'm not spending six hours locked up with the two of you," Ronon finally said, practically panting between each word. That sporting event intrigued John even more now, if it could get Ronon that out of breath. "I'll catch up with Teyla when I'm done here."

"Sounds good. Have fun you two."

"You as well, John."

Ronon just laughed.

"Sheppard, out." He tapped the ear piece and looked over at Rodney. "Ready to go?"

"As I'll ever be, Sheppard." Rodney replied, and though his attention seemed to still be on his data pad, there was something a bit pointed about the way he said that.

John frowned at him and then rolled his shoulders in a half-shrug and pressed the control to retract the support struts. "Engaging magnetics, and retracting supports." He could feel the slight shift and bob as the magnetic generator came online and the car began to float freely.

Leaning close to him, Rodney tapped at the console. "I'm going to try to activate the door controls." There was a loud click and they both looked up to see the outer doors iris open like a camera shutter. He looked at John, who looked back and raised an eyebrow. "Cool."

"Alright," John said, unable to contain a broad smile, "this is Golf Papa One, leaving the station. Next stop; Main Street, Bob's discount liquor and the Ancient weapons research lab." He pushed the accelerator lever forward slowly.

"Golf Papa?" Rodney echoed as the car began to move. "And you're not going to keep up the Subway conductor routine the whole way, are you?"

John just smirked over at him as he eased the accelerator a bit more. The car edged past the open doors and out into the brightly sunlit day. Rodney winced and John squinted against the glare while he dug into his BDU shirt pocket for his aviators. Before he could slide them on though, the clear, Plexiglas-like material of the canopy darkened. "Cool, it's photosensitive."

"Huh," was Rodney's only remark as he stared at the canopy and then down at his datapad.

"And it's for Guinea Pig."

"What is," Rodney asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Golf Papa."

"You named it Guinea Pig?"

John shrugged. "Sure, why not. It's squat and roundish, and kind of shaped like one. And, it's like we're following along a habitrail." He made little scurrying motions with the fingers of one hand.

Rodney just gawped at him for a few moments. "I think you've just given up all of your naming rights, ever."

"C'mon, Rodney," he said it in that drawn-out way that he knew drove Rodney crazy, "admit it, you think it's funny."

Rodney lifted his chin. "It is not and..."

He broke off as the car started down a steep slope. John heard an "Oh crap," softly muttered, but he was busy focusing on the acceleration and decent of the car. Much as he might enjoy the roller-coaster ride he wanted to ensure they eased into the speed. The subway car had been essentially up on blocks for ten-thousand years. He didn't want to go all out first thing.

"We're okay, Rodney," John reassured him. "This thing might not have inertial dampeners, but I'm in control of the rate of the acceleration."

A broad sweep of Rodney's gestured to the canopy and passing scenery, though he was very deliberately looking towards the floor. "It's not the speed really, just that I'm used to Jumpers. You don't really get to see the ground speeding by like this." He did look a little green around the gills.

"Getting a little motion sick?" John asked, genuinely concerned. "I've got some Dramamine in my vest. Need it?"

Rodney eyes flicked up to him, curiosity apparently winning out over nausea. "Why do you have Dramamine in your vest?"

John just shrugged. Rodney had to know that he really didn't ever need it. John couldn't remember the last time he'd been motion sick, if ever. Back during Atlantis's over-long stint on Earth, John had insisted on taking the team to an amusement park. Rodney had brought Keller, and had eschewed some of the wilder roller-coasters, but he'd convinced Ronon and Teyla to try them all. Even Ronon had finally begged off, when John got in line for the third time at one that had a crazy loop-de-loop, an almost 75 degree drop and awesome g-forces.

"In case you ever need it," John admitted, and then hurried to laugh it off by adding, "I really don't want you getting sick and puking on me again."

Rodney gave an affronted glower. "It was one time, Sheppard. And it wasn't because I was motion sick. It was because of that ridiculous ceremony. I mean bad enough they had to disembowel that squirrel thing in front of us, but then there was the whole eating and..." he trailed off with a loud gulp.

"Yeah," John agreed, "that was pretty gross."

"And at least I managed to hold it back until Ronon decided to participate. I don't care how much of a delicacy he said that it was supposed to be. It was raw and smelly and disgusting." He had the chin lift thing going on, but John saw that his eyes were fixed back on the floor.

"Still," John lifted a lazy shoulder, "better safe than sorry, right?" His hand went unerringly to the pocket in his TAC vest that contained not only the Dramamine, but also several packets of antihistamines, an epi-pen, glucose tablets, a small tube of burn cream, extra ibuprofen and a few band-aids. They'd each come in handy at one time or another and every time something new came up, John added to the contents. He pulled out the little packet and handed it over. "Here ya go."

Rodney still looked suspicious, but he took the pills without another word on the subject. "How's it running?" he asked a few minutes later after gulping them down with some water.

"Not too bad. Acceleration is smooth. No problems with the tracks so far. We're topping one-hundred and thirty mile per hour." He looked over at Rodney and smiled. "Gonna see if I can get her to that two-fourty mark." He wasn't really 'driving' but still, he could control how fast the thing went and getting it to top speed was certainly something he wanted to do. The rate they were going now he could finally start to feel it.

"Yes well, just don't forget that the car will react to track conditions on its own and override you if it detects a problem."

John settled back in the seat and teased the throttle just a little more. They were nearing two hundred miles per hour and that was pretty cool in John's book. He watched the scenery fly by outside and he realized that despite all the overgrown trees and foliage - some of it forming above the tracks to create tunnels of shady green - none of it was touching the track at all. He mentioned this to Rodney.

"Oh, right. Didn't I tell you?" When John frowned and shook his head, a sheepish expression worked its way onto Rodney's face. "Oh, I thought I had, sorry. It's the due to the magnetic coil in the tracks. Not only do they work with the car to generate the propulsion, they also put out a kind of dampening field in a circumference around the tracks. I mean, this rail system has been standing for ten-thousand years, Sheppard. It should be long since buried."

"So the rails have built in deflector shields? Cool." He knew he was being ridiculous, but watching Rodney get all red-faced and frustrated with him was just too much fun.

"Deflector shields? Are you twelve?

"Relax, McKay, I'm kidding. I understand the concept. It just concerns me a bit that we're cruising along at pretty high speeds here."

"Relax, Sheppard," Rodney parroted, doing a pretty good job of capturing John's flippant tone, "one thing I'll say about the Ancients. They might have been ascension-obsessed, but they built to last. Look at Atlantis herself."

"True," John had to acknowledge. "Just making sure. I mean, lots can happen to a planets' topography over ten-thousand years."

"And I'm sure that's exactly why the track sensors showed those areas in blue. I suspect we'll find sections of the tracks missing, or damaged beyond use for any number of reasons. But again, at least the Ancients planned for that."

As if on cue, the console in front of John gave a loud bleet, and an alarm light began to flash. John felt the car begin to slow. Thankfully it was easing down on the acceleration, not slamming them to a stop.

Rodney looked triumphant. "We're coming up on a blue section shortly. Looks like the system still works."

John kept his eyes ahead. They were out of the cover of the trees and coasting over a rocky, scrubby sort of plain. The tracks ahead stood out in sharp, metallic relief against the pale greys and sun-bleached yellows. He spotted the break when they were about a half a mile away and curving around a stubby outcropping of jagged stone. It looked as though something huge had just stomped on a portion of track, smashing it into the ground where the broken pieces lay half-exposed like old bones. It kind of creeped John out.

The car slowed to a crawl, and then stopped entirely about two hundred feet from the break and a different HUD came online in front of John. He studied the readings; sure that Rodney was doing the same, and then took hold of the Jumper-like flight controls. He could feel the engines engage and then take over as the magnetics disengaged. He eased the craft up and forward and it responded beautifully.

"Everything okay?" Rodney asked.

John had to smile. "Yeah. Reminds me of flying an V-22 Osprey. It's a VTOL," he explained at Rodney's raised eyebrow. "Has the same feel as a vertical take-off craft."

Rodney nodded. "Makes sense. In addition to the visible engine on the back, there are side, ventral and aft thrusters."

"That explains it." Curious, John veered slightly away from the course that was plotted and laid out on the schematic on the HUD. After he'd strayed a few degrees, an alarm started to sound and warning lights began flashing on the HUD. He corrected and both noise and light stopped.

"What was that?"

"Just checking to see what would happen if I tried to take us off course."

Rodney glowered. "I'd ask why, but I suspect I know the answer."

John's answering grin was shameless. It only took them about a minute to cross the damaged sections and when the car was lined up over the track once again, more indicators came on telling John to disengage the engines. There was a slight jolt as the car rocked down almost a foot, but then it settled into that floaty feeling again, and he engaged the accelerator once more. "Sorry about that," he told Rodney, who'd cursed under his breath. "Seems that it has some pretty wide tolerances for re-engaging the magnetics. I'll try to be a little closer next time."

Rodney's hand flapped at him dismissively. He was focused on the data on his computer again, and from the interested 'Hrmms' and noises he made, John knew it would be a few minutes before he was ready to talk.

"Looks like fuel consumption is right on target," Rodney eventually said, "and the engines functioned perfectly within their specified parameters."

"Neat," John said, because it was. He liked it when things went according to plan. Granted there was also the niggling little thought in the back of his head that things were going _too_ well, but he tamped that down.

"So," Rodney set the datapad down on his knees, "we've got some time to kill. Prime, Not Prime?"

John shrugged. "How about I Spy, instead?"

Almost two hours passed by with relative ease. They'd had to slow and manually navigate over a half dozen faulty or broken — and in one case, entirely missing - sections of track, but otherwise the journey had been uneventful. Unless John counted Rodney nearly braining him with his datapad when he'd 'I Spied' Rodney's mouth, and referred to it as something that could sometimes be 'larger than a bread box'.

"We've got about another thirty minutes before we reach the outpost," Rodney told him, "and it looks like the tracks are in the green until then." He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. "Wanna grab some lunch?"

"Lunch?" John supposed that he'd grabbed their packs, so they had some MREs handy.

"Yeah, the Caronen felt kind of guilty for not going with us, so they packed us a lunch. They didn't want me to go hungry." His smile was utterly winsome and John felt his stomach flip rebelliously.

"Well," he started to reply, dismayed to hear a squeak in his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Well, sure. If they went to all the trouble. Why not." He gestured to the controls. "Is it safe to leave this thing on auto?"

Rodney shrugged. "I don't see why not. If something unexpected comes up, I'm sure we'll get sufficient warning." He got up from his seat and made his way to the seats in the rear compartment. Unlike the bench seating in the Jumper, the subway car had two more pair of the comfortable console chairs in the back, and cargo space behind that.

John hadn't realized that the supplies the Caronen had loaded into the back area of the car included what looked a lot like a caterer's hot box, and also something remarkably cooler like. "Awesome." He dug through them both, pulling out various containers and bottles and setting them up on trays that Rodney somehow managed to fold up from the sides of each of the seats in the back. They were reminiscent of the tray-tables on airplanes, but larger and more maneuverable.

"Looks like the Ancients knew what they were doing here," John said with an approving nod once everything was arranged. Rodney had also grabbed the utensils from their packs. They didn't have plates, but it wasn't the first time he and Rodney ate out of the same containers. He uncorked a pinkish glass bottle with his utility knife, handed it over to Rodney and then took another for himself.

He'd tried the mildly alcoholic beverage the day before, during one of the several banquets they'd attended, and recognized a few of the dishes as particular ones that Rodney had salivated over. Obviously their hosts aimed to please.

"So, the Caronen set all of this up out of what?" he paused to stab his spork into a large sauce-covered legume, "some kind of guilt?" Not that John was going to complain. The food was good, there was plenty of it and the malty, fruity and mildly alcoholic beverage was even better.

Swallowing down a mouthful of something that John remembered had tasted a lot like barbecued chicken, Rodney shrugged. "I couldn't quite tell. They kept going on about how it's 'not customary' to leave the city limits. I mean, I know their population is relatively small, and they don't take up a lot of space to begin with, but it was almost as if they believe the city protects them somehow.

"I almost suspected the Ancients might have had an EM shield in place at some point, like the one on planet kid-kill, but couldn't find evidence of one having existed. It would make more sense than plain old superstition keeping them from spreading too far." He made a scoffing noise. Rodney had no truck with people who believed what he considered to be mystical mumbo-jumbo, or let it hold them back from advancing as a society. John knew it disappointed him that the Caronen might prescribe to such primitive beliefs. "Tranya just said that going beyond the estuaries was unwise and few ventured forth that far. Something about dangerous creatures that lived in dark places," he rolled his eyes.

John raised an inquiring eyebrow and canted his head. "Creatures?"

Rodney waved that away with a knife-wielding, dismissive hand. "We're inside a secure vehicle, moving to another secure facility. We won't have to interact with any kinds of creatures. And besides, I haven't seen much to be concerned about. "

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. There was that herd of buffalo-antelope things, but they didn't look too dangerous." He finished off the last few bits of the barbecue chicken and set his spork down. "And unless we collide with some birds, I don't think we'll have much to worry about in here."

"I think the birds would avoid getting that close to the tracks anyway, because of the magnetic repulsion field."

"Right," John agreed, "the deflector shields." He snickered.

Rodney gave a very put-upon, melodramatic sigh. He followed that up a moment later with a little "Oh," of delight.

The Caronen had even packed up some little finger-desserts that were reminiscent of mini pecan pies that Rodney had gushed over. They weren't familiar with chocolate (though Teyla had offered some for a sample and the First Advisors' spouse practically begged to trade for more), but they produced a brown-sugar like cane syrup that they certainly knew how to use to good effect. Especially if Rodney's appreciative noises were anything to go by. John took one of the nutty tartlets and tried desperately to ignore the other man.

This? Was why he'd wanted Teyla and Ronon to come along. John very rarely let himself get distracted this badly, or got the urge to do stupid things, when they were around.

Just when he thought he might have to try to surreptitiously shift in his seat to make things a little more comfortable (and less obvious), the now familiar 'bleet' of alert sounded. Rodney popped a last bite into his mouth and got up to head to the front of the car and check things out. "We're approaching the outpost," he called back.

John silently mouthed "Saved by the bleep," as Rodney came back long enough to help John clean everything up, snagging the last tartlet as he did so. There really wasn't much left of the meal, but John packed what was left in the cooler and stowed the trays back into the sides of the seats. "Should install these on the Jumpers," he muttered, and Rodney shot him a disbelieving look. "What? They'd come in handy." John wished he had some wet-wipes, his fingers and the trays were still a little sticky from the dessert, and settled for swiping his hands on the thighs of his BDUs. He saw Rodney's gaze follow the movements of his hands and linger a moment, and he looked down to see if he'd smeared the sticky stuff on his pants.

"Nothing," Rodney said quickly and hurried back to the co-pilots chair. He picked up his tablet and poked at it. John decided he could handle another bottle of the fruit-beer and then went up to join him. The car was slowing, and came to a stop just as he took his seat.

The weapons outpost was built into the side of a cliff face. While a small portion of the facility jutted out over the rocks, it looked as though the rest must've been carved into the craggy stone. Directly ahead, cutting off the tracks, was another of the iris-doors, like the Jumper bay doors on Atlantis. "Can you get that open?"

Rodney made an affirming noise and then leaned across from his chair into John's space and began tapping at controls. "Uh," John said, "I'll just sit here, then."

"It's just for a second, Colonel, relax," Rodney grumbled. John wanted to tell him he could keep doing that as long as he wanted; but he was still not _quite_ recovered from Rodney's little display with the desserts and the way the other man was leaning practically in his lap. The nape of Rodney's neck was close enough that John could angle his head down just a little bit and graze it with his lips... if he was so inclined. Which he wasn't. He grit his teeth and set his arms down on the armrests.

Rodney even smelled good, like the spice-scented soap the Caronen had given them to use. Shit. He gripped the hard polymer of the armrests tighter as Rodney stretched just a little further to reach a switch that was all the way to John's left. "There," Rodney said triumphantly, "that should do it," before resettling himself in his own seat.

Thankfully his attention turned immediately to the view out the window as the bay door began to retract. If Rodney'd stayed there a few seconds longer, he'd have definitely caught on to John's predicament. This time John _did_ need to adjust, and tried to disguise the movement by rocking forward in his seat, like he was eager to see what was ahead. "Nicely done, McKay."

"It's all in the wrist," Rodney said with a wicked gleam in his eye, and John really didn't know what to make of that.

The HUD popped up again and indicated that it was activating some kind of auto-docking program. John lifted his hands from the controls as the car started to move forward all on its own. He wasn't particularly concerned; so far all the automated systems had functioned properly. Within just a few minutes, they were fully inside a dark complex, lit only by the light streaming in from the open bay door. The car hovered for a moment and then John heard the whir of supports extending and the car settled to the floor surprisingly gently. "Huh, that was a pretty nice landing," he had to admit.

He did a quick check to make sure everything was secure with the car, and then went to the back to retrieve their packs and weapons. Abandoned Ancient outpost didn't mean there couldn't be surprise residents. He helped Rodney get his gear organized, holding on the tablet and a flashlight and Rodney's' sidearm while he got his pack settled, and then flicked on the light strapped to his P90 and moved to the hatch, ready to take point.

The hatch controls were simple push-button, and as soon as the top half slid up and the bottom folded down into a ramp, John moved out. He knew Rodney was just a step behind, and likely had his attention half on the tablet.

"Anything on the Life Signs Detector?" Rodney asked.

John swore under his breath. He'd completely forgotten about the damn thing. He retrieved it from a pocket on his TAC vest and turned it on. Two green dots flicked to life, and nothing else. "Nobody here but us chickens," he reported.

"Good, then let's get over to those work-stations. I want to see if I can get power up and running." Rodney herded him across the large chamber, away from the ship and towards consoles that John recognized as Ancient interfaces. He stood back, out of the way, as Rodney interfaced the data pad to the console and got to work.

"I'm not sure how much power we can expect," Rodney explained as his fingers flew over the touchscreen. "As I mentioned earlier today, the rails also act as conduits for power to the stations, and with that disrupted, I don't think they'll get a direct draw. But I suspect," he paused and pressed a few more times, and there was an echoing _'shump'_ as the station was suddenly flooded with light, "that each station has its own, localized power source."

He turned a triumphant - and deservedly so, John thought - smile on John. "And we have power. Now let's see..." he trailed off as he looked around. Aside from the work stations around Rodney and the area where the car waited, there wasn't much else to the facility except a lot of empty space. "Huh." He turned his attention back to the tablet. "Let me just pull up a schematic. There has to be something we're..." Again he broke of, and the victorious expression he'd sported just a moment ago fell into one of bewilderment. "There's nothing here."

John prowled around the room. There were definite clues that something had been there at some point - empty fixtures, a piece of broken panel, a dislodged wall sconce - but everything else was long gone. "Looks like they packed it all up. Probably took it back to Atlantis."

Looking kind of bereft, Rodney just nodded and dropped his eyes back to the screen. His fingers started flying again, tapping more forcefully than usual, John was sure. John continued to sweep the area, but it was obvious there was nothing to find.

Semi-distracted, Rodney looked up and snapped fingers at him, "Before I forget, we need to hook up the power cells in the car. Could you do that?" He didn't wait for an answer and barreled on with instructions. "It should be simple plug and play. Just look for a hatch on the back near the engine. Inside is a power cable. The car should've docked next to some kind of outlet."

John found the compartment on the side of the car that Rodney described - it was slightly recessed and required the press of John's hand over it before the latch popped - and he opened it. Inside was a coiled length of thick cable. He hauled it out and then searched out anything that looked like an 'outlet. A matching hatch on the ground fit the bill and he opened it the same way, revealing a socket-like hole. The end of the cable locked into place with a simple push.

"It's like charging an electric car," John said, vaguely disappointed. He'd been hoping for something a little more Ancient-y. He heard Rodney's amused snort from behind him.

When he got back to Rodney's side, the other man's expression was somewhat mollified. "Find something?" he asked.

"It depends of whether or not you'd consider the schematics for scaled-down versions of the Ancient Weapons platform _something_."

"Really?" When Rodney nodded, John assured him, "hell yeah, I'd call that something. What kind of scale are we talking?"

Rodney tapped a few more keys, read a few more line and then looked up at John. He at least looked intrigued. "Satellite-sized. It actually looks like they designed them on the framework of the satellites they'd used for communication for the terraforming satellites that we used during the Game."

"Can we recreate them?" John asked eagerly. They'd had very few encounters with the Wraith since returning to Pegasus and rumor throughout the galaxy was that many hives were going back into hibernation, but that didn't mean John didn't kind of love the idea of surrounding New Lantea Two with a series of defensive satellites.

"I don't see why not," Rodney said with a nod after a few more seconds of scrolling through data. He lifted a hand and waggled it. "We might have to substitute materials, but other than that, the designs look relatively straight-forward. Well, for Ancient designs. But between Zelenka and I, I'm sure we can suss it out."

"Cool."

"Not as cool as blasters or plasma rifles," Rodney amended, broad shoulders rising and falling in another world-weary shrug. "I'm just going to transfer all of this data to a hard drive; then we can get going."

"Sure, sounds good."

John took a last look around, keeping an eye out for anything that looked out of place. Rodney'd gotten a good look at the floor plan for the place, but that didn't mean the Ancients hadn't hidden something. Unfortunately, nothing gave some much as a flicker or hum that indicated a hidden room or secret panel or anything covert. He was just about to meander back over to join Rodney at the data console when the lights flickered. "Uh, Rodney?"

"Crap."

"Okay, that doesn't sound good." It _definitely_ wasn't good when just a few seconds later, the lights went entirely dark and the whirr of power hummed into silence.

"No, definitely not good." John heard Rodney say from somewhere off to his left. His P90 was still in his hands and he felt along the barrel until he found his light and switched it on. He scanned the room with it and found Rodney, just where he'd left him, hunched over his tablet.

He carefully made his way over. "So, uh, Rodney? What's going on?"

"The power's gone out." Rodney snapped.

John took a deep breath. "I can see that Rodney, on account of the whole 'it being dark' thing. Just, what does this mean?"

"It means that our dumb luck in getting as far as we have with this literally ancient system has finally crapped out. Whatever power was stored here has been used up, and even though the system is designed to recharge itself, it's not doing that. So, turning everything on drained the reserves." He looked over at John and between the pale light from John's flashlight, and the blue glow of his tablet, Rodney's face looked especially pale and haggard. "In the simplest terms, think of it like a car battery. You start your car which draws current from the battery, but once the car is running, the alternator engages which charges the battery."

John gave a wan smile. "So, we've uh, got a dead battery?"

Rodney returned the barely-there smile with a half-hearted grin of his own. "More like a broken alternator."

"Know any good mechanics?"

Rodney sighed. "Even if I could get to it, which I suspect would be a challenge all its own, I don't even know if I could do anything to get it to work. I don't have any parts or the right kinds of tools." He threw up his hands in frustration.

"Well, did you finish the download?"

The nod Rodney gave was conciliatory. "Yes, I got the satellite data and a little more of the systems information. And, you're right," he held up a forestalling hand, "at least I got that much."

John clapped him on the shoulder. "See, it's not all bad. And I'm sure we can send a team back here with tools and equipment to get this place up and running again, if we need to get more data."

"There you go," Rodney mock-scoffed, "being all reasonable."

"Crazy, isn't it?" He used the hand that still curled over Rodney's shoulder to pull him away from the console and then gave a gentle shove. "C'mon, let's get outta here. You get the door open and I'll unplug the car."

Rodney, who'd been going along with John's guiding hand, suddenly rocked to a halt. "Oh no."

John fought the urge to throw up his hands in frustration. "Now what?" he asked, and immediately regretted the snippy tone. It wasn't Rodney's fault this situation had rapidly gone downhill. Rodney jerked his shoulder away from John's grip and John felt like the world's biggest ass. "Sorry," was about the only thing he could think to say. "Just, tell me what's going on."

"The doors, Colonel." Ouch. He was back to 'Colonel'. Not Sheppard, or the rarely-used, but most treasured 'John'. "I don't know if the doors will open for the car with the power out."

"Shit."

This time Rodney reached out a tentative hand and just barely tapped at Sheppard's vest. He wasn't sure if the touch was meant to be reassuring, or if Rodney just couldn't gauge distance in the dim lighting. "Look, we won't know for sure until we get back onboard and try. So let's just do that." John wondered just how aggravated he must look for Rodney to try that mollifying tone on him.

John nodded. "Right, let's do that." He kept the light aimed down in front of them until they reached the car, and then while Rodney went inside, he unhooked the power cable and stowed it. When he climbed back on board, Rodney was seated in his usual spot, and once again furiously working on the tablet.

"I think the doors have their own reserve," Rodney reported. "I've been running some of the other data that I pulled along with those schematics and since I'd already been accessing station information, I seem to have gotten quite a bit of it."

"So that means we can open the one that leads to the ZPM station? We don't have to go back?"

Rodney finished typing something before nodding. "Yes, it should work. Just bring the car online and initiate the departure sequence. I'm going to interface my tablet with the car to get some readings.

John did as instructed. There were a few tense moments as Rodney spat out rapid-fire commands, and John hurried to follow-along. Finally Rodney made his triumphant noise, and let out a sibilant, "Yesss!" He lunged out of his chair and into John's space again, leaning over John's lap and manually stabbing at controls, all the while chanting things like, "Yes, I've got this," and "C'mon you bastard, work." And when the big iris-like doors started to spin open, John was equal parts relieved because, hey, it worked! And because it mean that Rodney finally collapsed back into his own seat.

Intense, energized Rodney in his personal space, close enough to touch without meaning to, was almost too much to take. He'd wanted to wrap his arms around him and just absorb some of that energy for himself. Like Rodney was humming with a static build-up and needed some way to bleed off the extra charge.

Trying not to visualize the myriad ways he could help Rodney expend some of that energy kept John's mind occupied enough that he was glad the car had automatic systems for the manual flight. He took control once they were out of the complex and the car's magnetics activated. Now familiar with the functions of the car and stability of the tracks, he pushed them to a comfortable cruising speed relatively quickly.

"Sorry there weren't cool weapons for you to play with," Rodney said after a while, breaking the silence that had fallen over them since they left the outpost.

"Why are you sorry?" John asked, genuinely puzzled. "It's not your fault, Rodney. And those defensive satellite designs are nothing to scoff at."

Rodney sighed, "I know. But I lured you out here under false pretenses. I practically teased you with the thought of shiny new guns, and didn't deliver." He sounded despondent.

John honked out a laugh. "You saying you're a gun-tease, McKay?" He gave an over-the-top wink.

Rodney gaped at him for all of three seconds and then let loose with a chuckle of his own. "Okay, you're right. That was ridiculous of me."

"No, no," John mock-protested, "you're right. You promised me weapons and you didn't put out. I'm going to tell everyone back at Atlantis that you're a gun-tease." Rodney rolled his eyes as expected, but he also started to snicker. John loved seeing him loosen up. "I'm going to end up getting blue-trigger-finger," he leered, and Rodney leaned over to smack him upside the back of the head.

Okay, he totally deserved that. He said so.

Rodney didn't disagree. "You're so juvenile, Sheppard." But he was still laughing.

"You know I didn't come out here just for the possibility of weapons, right, Rodney?" he had to ask once the laughter subsided. Because despite the fact that he'd managed to lighten the mood, John got the feeling Rodney really was still feeling culpable. He'd been diminished lately, that was the only word John could think of to describe his friend.

"No?" And it hurt just a little bit that there was a question in Rodney's voice.

John shook his head. "Of course not. C'mon, Rodney. This," he looped his hand in a gesture that took in the car and them and everything around them, "is what we do. You and me, we do crazy shit like hop on ten-thousand year old subway cars just to see if they still work. Hell, even if there wasn't a station out there that said 'ZPM' on the label, can you honestly tell me that you wouldn't have wanted to check this thing out?"

He didn't wait for a response, because if he stopped now, he wouldn't be able to get the rest out. "You _know_ we would have. We'd have come up with some ridiculous reason to justify it," he admitted with chagrin, "but we'd have done it anyway. Cuz that's our thing, Rodney. We do the impossible and the crazy and even the risky and death-defying, and we do it together. Right?"

Okay, Rodney's smile right there? Made every embarrassing bit of that admission so damn worth it.

"Right. You're absolutely right." Rodney bobbed his head a few times, and a blush crawled up from under his collar to chase all the way up to his eyebrows.

"Good," John stated laconically, "I'm glad you agree."

The tips of Rodney's ears and the sweep of his cheekbones were still tinted pink, but he cleared his throat and tried for normal. "So, we've got just under two hours to the ZedPM station. More Twenty Questions, or I Spy?"

John shrugged. "We could just talk, yanno." Whoa, where did that come from?

Apparently Rodney agreed with John's subconscious because he looked vaguely suspicious. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with the real John Sheppard?"

This time John got to roll his eyes. "It's just an idea, Rodney. Look, let's just play Prime, Not Prime, okay?"

"No, no, no," Rodney hurried to protest. "You actually offered to talk. To share. To communicate. I'm not passing up that opportunity." Rodney looked at him expectantly, "So," he prompted, "talk."

Okay, if that was how Rodney wanted to play it, John would start talking. He brought out the big guns. "So, what the hell happened with you and Keller, anyway?" He'd wanted to know for months, but hadn't had the courage to just come out and ask. All that Rodney had told anyone (even Teyla, he'd pestered her until she threatened him with a Bantos rod that she was telling the truth) was that it was a mutually agreed-upon decision and they were both just fine, thank you.

Rodney went momentarily wide-eyed, and then he scowled. "Oh, it's going to be that kind of talk, is it?" For as bitter as the words were, his tone was actually kind of light. "Alright, I'll do this." He shifted back in his seat, clearly settling in for the long haul, and then swiveled the chair so that he was facing John directly. Apparently he wasn't going to make this easy for John, either.

"Remember when Jennifer and I took that vacation to visit her Dad?"

John nodded. He'd spent those same two weeks doing some field training with new SGC recruits, taking them through the Stargate for the first time. It had been hellish, grueling and beyond aggravating dealing with wet-behind-the-ears Marines who practically pissed themselves after they first stepped through the event horizon. But it had kept him so mentally and physically exhausted that he barely had time to think. Which was exactly why he'd volunteered to do it in the first place. He'd truly expected Keller to come back from that trip with a ring on her finger.

"I know you're probably wondering what I did to screw things up." When he started to protest, Rodney waved it away. "No, don't. It's okay. I know that's what everyone one was thinking. I mean, me? Rodney McKay, PhD, PhD spending two weeks in Podunk, Wisconsin with Jennifer's family? " he scoffed. "Yeah, not exactly the recipe for a sustained relationship, is it?"

"And I admit, there were a few... issues." He smirked in a particularly self-satisfied way. "I completely got my jollies by mentioning Titanic at any and every opportunity."

"Titanic?" John asked. "You mean the ship itself or the crappy movie with Kate Winslet?"

"Oh, the movie." When John must've continued to look confused as all hell, Rodney took pity on him. "There's a throw-away line in that movie. Near the beginning when Kate Winslet is thinking about jumping off the ship?" John nodded. He remembered thinking the movie would probably have been a lot better if she'd just taken the plunge. "And then that guy, Joe or Jack or whatever, he stops her. He gives this line about having grown up near Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin and how he fell through some thin ice on a lake while ice fishing and how horribly cold it was. The lake was called Wissota.

"Thing is, Lake Wissota is an artificially formed lake resulting from construction of a hydroelectric dam, which wasn't completed until 1917. The lake didn't exist at the time the Titantic sailed. So, the writers of this movie just picked any old lake in Northern Wisconsin, and didn't fact check."

He gave a positively vicious grin. "It's a complete bone of contention up there. Mention Titanic anywhere and strangers off the street will literally stop you to point out that the movie was wrong. I tested that theory more than once."

John laughed. That sounded like such a Rodney thing to do.

"Anyway, that might have annoyed Jennifer, but it wasn't the real issue. We did pretty good for almost the whole trip. Hard as it may be to believe, her dad even liked me. He was nice enough, if tiresomely simple and brain-meltingly dull. The man didn't even have a cable modem or DSL. Just a dial-up connection." Rodney sounded scandalized.

John shot him an expectant look.

"Yes, yes, I hacked the neighbor's WiFi. But c'mon. You name your secure connection 'Kev and Bri's Mommy'? You deserve to have your connection jacked." His scowl was genuine. "Anyway, I don't really think her Dad knew what to make of me. The Doctor in front of my name impressed him, but he really didn't seem to get what it was that I do. But still, he doted on Jennifer and seemed happy that she'd found someone.

"So, the last three days there was this big family reunion that Jennifer insisted we attend. It was in a neighboring town and there were social activities going on each day and she insisted we participate in _all_ of them." He must've read the horror (somewhere between mock and genuine) on John's face because he nodded. "I know. The only way I could get through it was by pretending we were on an away mission and I was playing nice with the indigenous population of some backwater world. I swear, Sheppard, if we ever go to a planet where the natives want us to do an egg-on-a-spoon race? I am so your guy." The crooked line of his mouth quirked into a quick grin. "So, we stayed in a hotel and every morning we had breakfast at this diner across the street." He gave John a peculiar smile. "It was called the Thorpedo."

"The what?"

"The Thorpedo. The name of the town was Thorp, and so the restaurant was called the Thorpedo."

"That's pretty corny," John snorted derisively.

"Tell me about it," Rodney agreed. "But," he went on, "they had surprisingly good coffee and pretty good home-cooked breakfast. Anyway, we went there every morning, because the hotel only served a really crappy continental breakfast. Their Belgian waffle maker didn't even work."

John frowned in commiseration. He liked those waffle-makers.

"So, it's our last morning in Thorp. We go for breakfast and Jennifer and I are sitting there, waiting for our order. It shows up and there's a decorative orange slice on my pancakes." He mock-shuddered and then looked at John expectantly. "You know what I did?"

"Gave the waitress hell, I hope!" John said. He knew how much it pissed Rodney off when people ignored the requests for no citrus. It pissed him off too. Mention that you're allergic to nuts or gluten or dairy and it was like people bent over backwards, but half the time that Rodney specified 'no citrus; deathly allergic' he was blithely ignored.

A sort of sad expression flitted over Rodney's face for a moment. He looked shuttered and kind of distant. "Rodney?"

"I didn't do that, John." He sounded perplexed, "I just asked her to take it away and get a new order. I didn't even make her take all the plates. Just the one the pancakes were on, even though I _knew_ there could be cross-contamination."

"Geez, Rodney." John wasn't sure why, but just imaging the scene caused a knot to tighten in his chest.

"And then I looked at Jennifer, and for a minute she looked so damn pleased. Like she was proud of me. It was only for a moment," he hastened to add, seeing the dark look settling itself on John's face. "Then a second later it was like she realized what she'd been thinking. And suddenly she was horrified at herself. She told me right then that the way I'd acted? It was just like how I was when I had that parasite in my head."

John had to close his eyes and take a deep, deep breath. And that wasn't enough, so he did it again while looking up towards the roof. The blue, cloud-dappled sky was speeding by overhead, but he didn't see it. When he lowered his gaze he saw that Rodney wasn't looking at him anymore and was staring out the canopy at the blur of passing scenery.

"It's just kind of funny that she kept trying to get me to tone it down and be more conscientious of others and be a little nicer. And then when I finally got there, _finally_ became the person she wanted me to be, because I thought _that_ was what would make us both happy... she realized she'd never wanted that at all. Or," he sighed, "no, that's not right. It was more that what she wanted was something... wrong. Something that I should never have been. She realized that the man she'd fallen for wasn't the real me."

Through rage-narrowed eyes, John saw Rodney shrug. "So, that was it. She told me she felt terrible and was sorry, and that she really needed some time to think. And then I told her that I didn't want to be that person either, but she kept insisting on it, so what the hell was I supposed to do to make it right." He scoffed, "Which wasn't the right thing to say. So," he flipped a hand in an 'over and over' kind of motion, "we talked and she cried and we talked and I yelled, and we talked and she cried," he gave an exasperated sigh. "Until we finally just reached this point where we both realized we couldn't do it. And, that was it."

He turned back to John and flinched. John knew that if the expression on his face matched the emotions clawing at his throat, he probably didn't look too pleasant. "Oh, John." Rodney reached out and put a hand on John's shoulder. "Look, don't... It's okay. I mean, I'm glad it happened. I really am. I hated who I was becoming to try to make her happy. And it wasn't that she made me do it. Not really. I mean, yeah, sometimes she'd tell me to be nicer and ... " he trailed off when John's expression grew, if anything, even worse.

John could feel just an awful sort-of-something boiling up from his gut.

"Look," Rodney hastened to say, "I thought that what I was doing was the right thing. It was as much my fault as hers for not sticking up for myself. Okay?"

It wasn't, really, but John wasn't going to be the one to say so. He'd known Rodney was dealing with something heavy and once the excitement over getting to take Atlantis back to Pegasus wore off, he'd just been a little too quiet and a little too easy. He just hated knowing that Rodney had been shouldering this alone the whole time.

"You knew I got a ring, didn't you?" And geez, what the hell was Rodney trying to do? Stab the knife a little deeper into his heart?

John managed a half-cocked, sort of sideways head-tilt of acknowledgement. "I kinda figured you were gonna do something like that."

"Well, it's a good thing I didn't get the chance to ask," he said with a rueful chuckle. "I can't imagine how much of a zombie I'd be if I'd gone through with it." He eyed John speculatively, "You didn't want me marrying her, did you, John?"

John felt himself start to close-off and shut down. He was about to turn away when Rodney's broad hand shot out and cupped his shoulder again. "No, you don't get to do that," he mock-chided. " You're the one who said 'Let's talk'. So we're talking. And that means you have to participate in this conversation."

Heaving out a rather put-upon sigh, John pursed his lips, but nodded. "Alright, fine," he practically spat, after a being stared down by Rodney's interrogative glare for a few confrontationally silent moments, "no, I didn't want you to marry her."

Rodney cocked his head and seemed to be studying John. "Why not? You don't like her?"

John hefted one shoulder in a sort of half-shrug. "Eh, I don't dislike her. I mean, she's a decent doctor and all. Not too bad in a crisis. Teyla and Ronon like her. It's not really her, personally."

"Then why not?"

John lifted a hand to scrub at the back of his neck. "It's like what you were saying. I didn't like how you changed because of her. Like you said, you got nicer and you watched what you said." He shrugged into his own hand. "At first, when it was just in front of her, it wasn't a big deal. We've all done that. But then you started to act that way even when she _wasn't_ around. You'd catch yourself, Rodney, and censor yourself," he explained, letting some of the frustration he'd felt witnessing it bleed through in his fraught tone.

"Someone would do something utterly stupid and I could see a rant forming at the tip of that brain of yours, but just before you let it out, you'd pass it through some sort of damn filter. I mean, you started doing the whole bullshit 'sandwich your criticism between two compliments' thing." He said the latter with something akin to horror.

"Why didn't you say something?" Rodney asked.

"And what? Ruin your chance at happiness?" He shook his head vehemently. "Hell no. I wasn't going to sabotage it for you, Rodney. I wanted you to be happy. And I figured that maybe changing who you were was making you happy." He did not add that it'd made him perfectly miserable to think that Rodney didn't want to be the guy John knew and cared about and considered his best friend.

He also didn't add that he'd worried that if he tried, it might cause an irreparable rift in their friendship. Even when Rodney was in the head-over-heels phase with Keller, he still found time to spend with John. It had been selfish, but he didn't want to lose what little he had. John thought about all of that for a few minutes and came to the realization that he should probably say... something about it. "Look, some of it was selfish on my part, too."

"How so?" Rodney's slanty mouth angled downward.

"We weren't getting to hang out as much, and I didn't want to ruin the time we did spend together." Good Christ, he was sounding like a moony, twelve-year old girl. "I didn't want to risk pissing you off or... making you unhappy." He just couldn't bring himself to say 'I didn't want to lose you more than I already had', but Rodney was pretty good at reading John's emotionally stunted dialogue. He'd probably figured out exactly what John was getting at.

It was amazing how welcome the exaggerated eye-roll was. The smack to the side of the head, maybe not so much. "Idiot," Rodney said, but there was affection there.

John ducked his head, suddenly abashed. "Just, don't ever change, Rodney. For _anyone_."

Rodney snorted, but he was nodding. "This time I'll listen to you."

"Good."

"So," Rodney's said slowly after a few minutes of ponderous silence, his voice pitched a little bit too close to deliberately innocent. John braced. "Was it just that you didn't like the way I was acting with her? Or, was there more to it?"

"Like what?" John asked; face as blank and as dumb as he could make it.

Rodney studied him a moment and then blew out a frustrated breath. "You know what, Sheppard," he said, patting the air toward John, "never mind. I'm a smart-enough man to know better than to push my luck."

John's puzzlement grew from feigned to genuine. "Uh, okay?"

Self-deprecating wasn't a good look on Rodney, but John knew that's what he was seeing on his friend's face. "We've probably done enough talking for like, the next few years, haven't we?" Rodney said with a cynical little laugh.

The track-warning alarm sounded just then, and Rodney added a bitterly quipped, "Saved by the bell," which was far too reminiscent of John's earlier, similar words, and left him even more confused. Deciding to leave well-enough alone, at least for now, John prepped for manual control and Rodney studied his tablet again. Still, he couldn't help watching Rodney out of the corner of his eye and John saw Rodney's expression falter. "What's up?"

"Crap," was all Rodney said.

"Uh, that's not an answer."

"How 'bout we're screwed," Rodney retorted, voice ratcheting into his bleak 'we're so screwed' tones.

"Uh, still not an answer, Rodney. What's going on?"

Rodney slumped in his seat and scrubbed a hand over his face wearily. "We're not gonna make it to the ZedPM station."

John frowned. "Why not? I thought we were good to go for the entire trip."

"Well, that was when I factored in the ability to recharge the power cells at the weapon's outpost. When that station lost power, it didn't complete the charge." He tapped desultorily at the tablet. "We've got enough juice for the next two manual flights, but after that, we're outta luck. There's not going to be enough, and judging from the ominously blinking blue lines about nineteen miles out from the station, there's a huge line gap there."

"Look, let's just see what we can do, alright?" John said, trying to stay positive. Sometimes when Rodney slipped into despair so early on, John staying firm and sure could bounce him out of it. "If I try to get us across the gaps as quick as possible, will that save some power? I mean, I've been soft-pedaling the landings and easing into 'em, because that first one was a little rough. I'm sure that's using extra juice."

"It'll help, but not nearly enough."

"So what do we do then?" He just wasn't ready to be defeated by this.

Rodney threw up his hands. "I don't know," he sputtered angrily, "get as far as we can and walk the rest of the way?"

John's brows rose. "Hmmm."

"Oh no, Sheppard. I'm not hiking twenty damn miles over unfriendly terrain. Not to mention there's no way to know how elevated the tracks will be. How the hell would we get down?"

"ZPM, Rodney," John sing-songed.

"Dangerous creatures that lurk in the dark, John," Rodney rejoined in a much more sarcastic mimic of John's tone.

John spread his hands, inviting answers. "Then what do you suggest, Rodney. Wait here until Atlantis sends a rescue Jumper, with nothing to show for our efforts except some data?"

"Hey," Rodney growled, "you said that defense satellite data was worth the trouble."

"It was," John hurried to reassure him, "really. It's just that Atlantis isn't even due to send that rescue for another," he glanced at his watch, "eight hours, give or take. We could easily get to the ZPM station before then. "

"Fine," Rodney grudgingly capitulated. "If it comes to that, which I'm fairly sure it will, we can talk about the possibility of hiking the rest of the way to the station."

John smiled, "Great. I'm going to organize our gear so we're not hauling a whole bunch of unnecessaries if it _does_ come to that. Let me know if you need me for anything." Getting up from his seat, John swore he heard Rodney mumble something under his breath, but when he looked over his shoulder, Rodney's attention was elsewhere.

He had to stop twice when they needed to maneuver the car over the next two damaged sections, but each time returned to the task. It really shouldn't have taken him that long to lighten their packs, and sort through the supplies the Caronen had left for them to see what might be useful, but he was feeling a little bit raw after all the heavy conversation and needed some time to himself. Rodney must've gotten that, because he didn't push or prod and kept conversation limited to talk about the car and the fuel cells.

John finished sorting, stowing and repacking all their gear into the packs a few minutes before the car slowed as it came upon the half-mile stretch of damaged track and then coasted to a stop. He rejoined Rodney in the front compartment and let out a low whistle. "Huh, that's something."

Ahead of them the A-frame supports that were spaced evenly under the tracks had crumpled and twisted, and collapsed completely in a few places, and the damage extended well beyond John's line of sight. "What do you suppose caused that?"

"Could've been anything, really," Rodney said softly and rather distracted. His attention was shifting between the HUD and the display on his tablet. He looked up after a moment and shook his head. "It's a no go. We definitely don't have enough of a charge left in the fuel cells to make that distance. Not even half of it."

"Okay, so the next question is: do we rappel down to the ground from here," he glanced out the canopy, "which looks to be only about two and a half, maybe three stories down, or do we take the car down there."

Humming in consideration, Rodney rolled his head on his shoulders and John heard a sharp crack. Ouch. The guy carried too much tension. "Well, as much as I'm _all_ for taking the easy way down, I think we'd be better off leaving the car up here. That way when Atlantis sends the Jumper, if we haven't been able to contact them from ZedPM station, they'll be able to figure out what happened."

"We could leave them a note," John suggested, only a little bit acerbically.

Rodney's eyes narrowed, but then he must've decided it wasn't worth the effort to snap at John for being a smartass. "I'm sure if they find the car with rappelling ropes dangling down from it, that'll be enough of a clue. But, if it makes you feel better, you can scrawl 'Gone to ZPM station' on the outside of the car, with a big arrow pointing the way."

John gave him a broad grin. "Okay, I'll do that." He clapped Rodney on the arm. "C'mon, let's get the gear lowered and then we can get ourselves down." Anticipating the unknowns that might have arisen in exploring an underground research station, Rodney'd had the Caronen supply them with a variety of equipment, including several coils of sturdy rope. They jury-rigged a pulley system with the seats and fashioned a simple hook so that they could use the slack in the rope to unhook the packs after getting them settled on the ground.

John even made Rodney laugh as they worked. He took a moment to lean outside of the car and used a black permanent marker to scrawl 'Went to Ancient ZPM Station - JS & RM' in letters three-inches high on the metal hull. He added a big arrow, and even scrawled 'Wash Me' a bit lower down.

Getting themselves to the ground was a trickier matter, and while Rodney dangled with one foot in a tightly formed loop and another coil around his waist, John braced himself behind the seats as he slowly feed out a little bit of rope at a time, easing the other man down. His own decent was quite a bit more reckless. He tied himself off, made sure the rope was securely fastened to the car, and then just climbed down, hand-over-hand.

Rodney was still panting by the time John down and got all his gear settled. "You okay?" John asked.

"You know damn well I hate anything to do with climbing down ropes, Sheppard," Rodney barked, looking a little wild around the eyes.

"I know, Rodney. But, I still think it was a better idea to try to get to the ZPM station by foot. We've got the tracks to guide us, and it's only a few klicks away. We'll probably even beat the check-in time we set with Teyla and Ronon, and we can call them and have them send a Jumper."

"What if we can't get into the station?" Rodney asked pointedly. "Then what?"

He wanted to mention that maybe Rodney should've had thought of that before they'd gone to the trouble of getting down, but knew that he'd just accuse John of not thinking of it either. Instead he waved the concern away. "You already know you've got the data in your tablet that can prompt the door controls." He put a hand on Rodney's shoulder and squeezed. "I'm sure you can get us in."

Rodney appeared slightly mollified. "Well, probably. But you'd better hope we can even get down there. Remember the Zed PM station is underground."

He remembered, but he was kind of hoping it was like the weapons research facility and had the big, iris doors on the surface. The tracks hadn't gone underground at any previous point, so he suspected that as long as they could get to the door, they'd be okay.

Shouldering the bulk of their gear, John waved Rodney on. "Let's get moving, Rodney. We've still got the light for a few more hours. You take point; I've got your six."

Rodney grumbled under his breath, but set out at a steady, ground-eating pace. Much as the man might complain about the distance, John knew he was more than capable of it. Their time on Earth had negatively impacted almost everyone's fitness levels for a while (except Ronon's, but that was because Amelia had introduced him to a whole slew of classes at the Y), but as soon as they were back in Pegasus and going off world again, Rodney got back into gate-team shape.

Which was a nice shape. John may have let his gaze wander a few times over the next several miles to take in certain aspects of that shape. Thankfully, the terrain they were crossing had the characteristics of glacially formed plains. The land was rolling with kettles and drumlins, and blanketed in a coarse, yellow-green grass that billowed like a furry pelt in the breeze. Here and there jagged-edged rock formations pushed violently through the soil, but they were easy to spot and avoid. So aside from taking care with his footing now and then, he had good visibility for several miles in any direction.

He was indulging in one of his idle staring sessions, watching the backs of Rodney's thighs (and maybe a little higher) shift and flex with each stride, when those thighs stopped moving. "What's up?"

"What's that up there?" Rodney pointed to a dark smudge in the distance.

John trotted a few stops forward to stand at Rodney's shoulder, shaded his eyes and squinted to bring it into focus. "Looks like water. Maybe a lake or river. I can't tell from here. Looks like the tracks cut directly across it though."

"Oh, terrific. We're gonna have to swim, too? In case you hadn't noticed, Sheppard, it's not exactly a balmy summer day." He stalked forward.

With his ubiquitous black t-shirt, uniform jacket, TAC vest and pack he was comfortable enough, and Rodney hadn't commented about being chilled yet, but he was right. The temperature was probably in the low sixties, Fahrenheit, and would only get cooler as the sun continued to sink towards the horizon. Carone was further from its sun than the Earth, and the people had mentioned that this was their warm season. He didn't relish the idea of swimming with the temperature dipping towards the high end of fifty-ish degrees.

"Let's wait until we get there to panic," he drawled, stepping in to pace a few yards behind.

Rodney craned his head over his shoulder to shoot a glare at him.

"I'm just saying that maybe there'll be a way we can use the tracks to get across."

Rodney didn't comment, but the lines of his shoulders relaxed somewhat. John took that as a win.

They continued walking and it took another ten minutes until the grassy plains gave way to scrubby, sandy dunes and then finally a long, sweeping beach covered in a coarse grey sand and fine rock. The lake was large enough that John could barely make out the far shore and could see nothing of land to his left. They might try going around the right, but a thick forest sprang up further along the shoreline, and he didn't relish the idea of trying to fight their way through. The tracks themselves spanned the water, but unfortunately the A-frames that supported them were far enough apart that getting from one to the next without getting in the water would be impossible.

He started to sweep his gaze around, looking for anything that might be useful. He'd been pondering the possibility of putting together a quick raft and using it to get from pylon to pylon - and also trying not to smile as he imagined Rodney accusing him of wanting to live out boyish fantasies of rafting down the river like Tom Sawyer - when his eyes lighted on something interesting.

"Huh," John exclaimed in surprise, "there's a boat." He pointed to the craft that rested keel-up a few yards from the lapping water on the pebbled beach. It looked like a simple tug with some kind of paddles lying flat against its sides. "That's just weird."

"There's another one." John turned and saw Rodney also pointing. He followed the gesture and sure enough. There was another up-ended up boat a few hundred feet down the gently curving sands. He looked past it, and spotted a third an equal distance beyond. "Maybe they do some kind of fishing around here regularly?" John posited. "I know you said that they preferred not to leave the city, but this seems a little too organized."

"Well, they _prefer_ not to leave the city, it doesn't mean that they don't. In fact, wasn't Teyla talking to Dorton or Dorsten, the ah, Minister of Agriculture, about some kind of fish or eel or something?" He snapped his fingers as he recalled, "Yes, that was it. He mentioned that they have some traditional bi-annual excursion to gather this particular kind of fish. They did some kind of salted, pickling thing with it that was really quite delicious and it was a shame they had it so rarely.

"I remember thinking it was odd because he was very specific that they harvest it just after the ice melts, and just before the water freezes. And I asked if there was something about the fish at those times of year that made it especially desirable." He frowned a moment, looking puzzled, "it was odd, because Dorton said that there wasn't. That they just didn't risk being outside the city when the weather got too warm." He looked at John expectantly. "Don't you remember that?"

John did his best not to look sheepish. He could sort of recall Rodney getting rather worked up about some dish they'd been served, but John had been paying more attention to watching Rodney's expressive hands and the animated movements of his mouth than the conversation. "Uh, sure," he half-heartedly agreed.

Rodney made a 'tsh' noise and shook his head. "Well, trust me when I say that the conversation took place and I'd be willing to bet that's what these boats are for."

"Well great," John said heartily, "now we've got a way across the lake." He strode over to one of the over-turned craft.

"You want us to take a row-boat across? That thing looks decrepit, Sheppard."

"Rodney," John put his hands on his hips and fixed Rodney with a rather pointed look, "we just rappelled down from a ten-thousand year old subway car. You're going to quibble about a little peeling paint on a perfectly serviceable water craft? You said that the Caronen come out here twice a year to use these things."

Rodney huffed. "Yes, well, pardon me for having a little more faith in a machine built by a race of highly intelligent beings out of materials made to stand the test of time, and not trusting what could be a shoddy pile of wood likely inflicted with dry rot and the Pegasus equivalent of termites. How do we know they don't bring new boats each season and just abandon these to rot?"

John walked over and kicked at the boat. "Feels solid."

Rodney rolled his eyes, but relented with a gruff, "fine, but if this thing capsizes and we drown, I'm blaming you."

"That's absolutely fine, Rodney." He motioned the other man to help him get the boat flipped onto its hull and hauled it by a sturdy rope tied to a hook in the bow over the pebbly sand closer to the water's edge. They stowed their gear and TAC vests in the bow and Rodney climbed in, gathering up the rope while John pushed them off the sandy beach onto the water. He clambered in after getting them underway and Rodney groused at him about rocking the boat and splashing him.

The paddles functioned almost like oars, although instead of having to lift and move them forward after each stroke, they folded in against the side of the boat and sort of slid back into place. It took a few minutes, Rodney getting frustrated and making John follow _his_ lead, but they got the hang of it quickly.

Getting lost in the rhythm of rowing, it was when they were about halfway across that John noticed Rodney kept turning his head from side to side, eying the water. He was keeping up with his paddle-contraption, and the movement was discreet, but he was definitely distracted. "Expecting a whale?" John asked with a smile.

Rodney's gaze snapped on him and he was frowning. "Oh sure, mock my ridiculous and unfounded fears."

"I'm only teasing," John reassured him. "This just reminds me of being in that dream of yours. Me and you, rowing a boat. Except it's not raining," he glanced skyward for a moment. "You gotta admit, it was kinda weird."

"At least I didn't put the clown there," Rodney retorted, but the tension on his face had eased when he realized John wasn't trying to be cruel.

John grimaced. "Yeah, the clown really made it surreal, huh?"

"That whole experience was surreal." Rodney agreed. He went silent a moment and John felt something - maybe panic - clench in his gut. There was that quality to the silence that John knew meant the topic wasn't done, and that Rodney was doing some heavy thinking.

"You know, I always wondered about that, Sheppard." Rodney paused in his rowing to look over at John, eyes narrowed in speculation. "All of us who had nightmares induced by the crystal creature dreamt of things that were specifically meant to induce terror. _You_ were dreaming about confronting yourself." His tone went surprisingly gentle, for Rodney. "Is that what terrifies you? I mean, are you your own worst fear?"

John ducked his head and gave a self-deprecating snort. He _really_ didn't want to explain this one to Rodney, but the man was dogged when he was curious about something. He could probably insist that Rodney drop it and no matter how much it ate at him, Rodney would. But John didn't want to create that tension between them. Not when the whole day so far had seemed to be getting them back to easier, more comfortable footing. So he sucked in a deep breath and tried to explain it.

"When you showed up in my mind and I was fighting against... me, or whatever, the personification of the creature who happened to look like me, that was..." he blew out a heavy, shaky exhale. "That was later on. When I first ended up in the dream, I thought I woke up right after being in _your_ dream." He lifted a hand to scrub it through his hair, letting it fall to rest on the back of his neck. "And you died, Rodney. That's how it started. We were on those tables and I was sure it was really happening and Keller was trying to resuscitate you and she couldn't. You died."

He looked down at his hands, fingers going white from how hard he was gripping the oar. "That was the fear the creature tried to capitalize on. I was just, numb. I left the room and started wandering around Atlantis and it just got emptier and quieter and then there was no one there and I was alone... and you were dead. That's when I, or the other me-thing showed up."

He risked a quick, sideward glance. Rodney was wide-eyed and looked somehow fragile. A long, heavy silence descended and John resumed rowing, rather aggressively. Forced into reacting, Rodney flailed for a minute to match John's rhythm on the oars. "I didn't know that, John," Rodney finally said. "Why didn't you..." he trailed off.

"You know that's _my_ worst fear, right?" Rodney started again, seemingly on a different tack. "I mean, losing you. And Teyla and Ronon, of course," he hurried to add. "The team. My friends on Atlantis. But, just because I didn't have nightmares about you dying, doesn't mean that's not my worst fear."

"Rodney," John tried to interrupt. This was getting back into territory that John wasn't quite ready to traverse.

"It's just that the whale thing? That's like, a regular, recurring nightmare. I think that's why my brain took us there. It was familiar. I don't," he stopped rowing again, needing his hands to gesture, and John paused as well. "I don't dream about that kind of stuff. Which is good, really. I mean, I spend enough of my _waking_ time worrying about something horrible happening to you," he'd turned his head to look at John directly; John could see that in his periphery. "And the team and Atlantis... but mostly you."

John started to turn his head, to meet Rodney's imploring deep blue eyes, when a movement in the stern of the craft caught his attention. What looked like sticks poked out from behind a footboard. The sticks kept moving. They stretched and retracted, and stretched again, dragging a way too familiar bluish-black body behind them.

"Holy shit!"

He heard Rodney huff in aggravation. "Well, I didn't think that would be such..."

John clamped a hand over his wrist. "No, Rodney," he practically spit in a vehement whisper, "it's a fucking Iratus bug." Skin crawling, he fought the instinctual urge to scramble as far away from the damn thing as he could. He didn't want to rock the boat any more than necessary and startle it into attacking.

"Holy shit!" Rodney echoed when he followed John's gaze, though his tone was equally low and panic-squeaky. "What the hell do we do, Sheppard?"

"Get the hell out of this boat," John shot back under his breath.

"What? The water's freezing!" Rodney squawked. "Can't you just shoot it?"

John wanted to glare at Rodney, but he couldn't take his eyes off the bug. It was still half hidden behind the foot board, moving sluggishly. "If I shoot at it, I'll shoot a hole right through the boat and we get wet anyway. And if I miss, we're screwed."

"Right, right," Rodney agreed. "We don't want to risk that. But, what if it jumps at one of us when we get out of the boat. And what about our gear?"

"Screw the gear, Rodney," John hissed. "I'm not staying in this damn boat with that damn bug."

"Okay. Right. Let's get out of the boat. We'll just go slow. Try not to agitate it too much."

They both eased their row bars down in tandem and slid to either side of the craft. "On three," John instructed in a firm whisper, "just flip yourself over the side and go under and then swim away from the boat. Got it?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," John took a deep breath, and heard Rodney do the same. "One," he widened his grip on the gunwale, "two," he shifted his weight forward onto his thighs and calves, ready to spring, "three!" He pushed off with his feet and tumbled over the side of the boat into the water.

For a moment the shocking bite of the cold water half-convinced him that the damn bug had latched onto him and he flailed frantically for the surface. He came to his senses just before breaching the surface and stayed under long enough to take several powerful strokes away from the boat.

John popped up from the water with a gasp - the momentary panic had stolen all of his air - and looked around frantically for Rodney. He located him by sound first, the slap and splashing of water and low-pitched, sputtered cursing. "Rodney, you okay?"

"It's cold, Sheppard," Rodney complained, but he was moving through the water now, swimming closer to John. "It's damn cold."

"I know, Rodney," John said, "but it's better than the alternative." He rotated in the water and tried to peer inside the boat. His desperate breaststroke had taken him about a dozen yards away from it, and he could just make out a dark line of an Iratus bug leg peeking out above the gunwale. It didn't look like their hasty departure had stirred the creature too much.

Doing a rather pathetic dog-paddle, Rodney swam next to him. "The water seems to have a rather high salinity, did you notice?" He spat out a spray of it. "Between that and the temperature, I don't think it's going to follow us into the water." He paddled a little closer to the boat, and then looked at John. "I think we should drag it to shore with us."

"Are you nuts?" John exclaimed.

"No, hear me out, John. I say we try for the rope on the bow and try to haul it behind us when we swim for shore. Then when we get there, we can get our packs and push the boat back out onto the lake." For someone treading water he was doing a good job of speaking in a soothing tone. "We're going to need dry clothes, John, and since I've got no damn intention of traipsing through the woods at night if there are those fucking bugs out there, we're going to need our gear. It could take Lorne's team time to find us. We could be stranded for a while. And it's cold enough now and getting colder so that hypothermia is a real risk."

John kicked his feet just enough to keep above water. He knew Rodney was right. And from what he'd seen, the Iratus bug was hardly moving. It _was_ chilly out. Maybe it was exothermic like any other insect and the cold was keeping it sluggish. The fact that the damn bug hadn't just latched onto one of them right away seemed to support that theory. It hadn't even made an appearance until they were halfway across the lake.

"Alright," he reluctantly agreed, "alright. We'll tow the boat behind us and _if_ the thing's still not moving much by the time we get there, we'll try for the packs." He lifted an arm from the water, jabbing a finger and a spray of water at Rodney, "And then I'm setting the fucking boat on fire."

Rodney nodded. "That's good, John. That's fine. You can absolutely do that." He sort of hated it that Rodney was talking to him with his 'calm the crazy person' voice, but he didn't begrudge him the need. He was feeling kind of crazy.

And he also felt like a useless jerk when Rodney was the one who slowly paddled back to the boat and carefully eased the rope over the edge, inch by incremental inch. Since it was all he could do to help, John kept an eye on the leg that he could see, but thankfully it didn't move at all while Rodney got the rope and then swam back to John. "I think it's too cold for the bug," he said.

Rodney's teeth were chattering and his lips looked a little blue. "Yeah, well the bug's not the only one it's too cold for." He handed the rope over to John. "Let's get to shore before I freeze."

John tied the rope around his waist so that towing the boat didn't take too much extra effort, and set off with a front crawl stroke. John was definitely the more powerful swimmer of the two, but between the drag of the boat and the occasional stops to check for bug movement, he and Rodney kept pace with each other. Despite the exertion though, the cold started to get to him and by the time he felt his knees scrape bottom, his whole body was juddering with it.

He crawled the last few yards out of the water and on to the beach and then collapsed on the sand. A wetly muffled thump next to him told him that Rodney had done the same. He could hear Rodney's breath bellowing in and out in great, wheezing gasps and he rolled to his side to look at him in concern. Rodney may have been in pretty good shape, but they'd just swum probably close to a mile in chilly water. That was asking a lot of someone in great physical condition.

"Rodney," he rolled up to his side, scooted closer and put a hand over Rodney's chest. "Rodney, hey buddy," he panted, "you okay?"

Rodney's eyes snapped open and despite how horribly ragged his breathing sounded, he bent one arm up at the elbow and gave a thumbs up. John let himself roll back down on the sand in relief.

"We gotta get the gear," Rodney said eventually, after he finally got his breathing under control. He climbed slowly to his feet.

"Yeah," John reluctantly agreed, allowing Rodney to take his hand and help haul up from the sand.

Rodney gave him a pitying look. "I'll do it. You just stay back and be ready to catch the packs and vests when I toss them at you, okay?"

God, Rodney was brave. John didn't think he could have brought himself to go near the boat again. Just having the end of the thirty foot rope that was tied to the bow around his waist was freaking him out. He tried to untie it, but between the damp, slick rope and his cold-clumsy fingers, he finally just shimmied it down his body and stepped out of it. He backed a few paces, tugging the craft closer to shore, so that Rodney didn't have to wade too far out to reach their stuff.

Rodney motioned for him to stop when he was calf-deep in the water and within reach of the bow. He cautiously hefted one pack up, and then twisted at the waist to lob the pack at John. John caught with a grunt and then set it down to get ready for the vests. Rodney followed with those and then the second pack in short order and then splashed out of the water and back onto the beach.

"I don't think the thing moved at all," he said, reaching John's side. "I think you're right that the cold is keeping it dormant."

John nodded, but didn't say anything. The situation seemed to be catching up with him and he felt numb from more than cold.

Rodney looked at John and his mouth curved down. "Just, stay there a minute, okay?" He knelt down to dig through one of the packs and then popped up a moment later with something in his hand. He took the rope from John's feet, gathering it up as he headed back to the boat. John watched him lay the coil of rope inside and then do something else that he couldn't quite make out, and then give the whole thing a heaving push that sent it floating back out onto the water.

Again, he splashed back through the shallows and returned to John's side. "There," he said with a kind of vicious finality.

John finally realized what Rodney had done when he saw the plume of dark smoke coil up from the bobbing craft. He blinked. "You set the boat on fire," he said dumbly.

"Well, yes." Rodney said, like that made all the sense in the world. "That's what you said earlier. That you wanted to burn the fucking thing." His inflection matched the one John had used earlier. "I just made sure that happened."

John didn't know what to say.

Rodney apparently did, because he pushed John further back up the beach, saying, "We need to get a fire started, fast. There's a bunch of drift wood around. Grab as much as you can, but don't wander too far."

It was easier just to let Rodney take charge - John didn't know if he was capable of it right now anyway - so he followed instructions and jogged up and down the beach to collect an armful of branches and logs. He stayed close to the water though. They knew the Iratus bugs tended to live in dank, dark caves, but the one that had latched onto him had had a web spun between two trees in the woods, so John wanted to avoid getting too near the forest that sprung up beyond the dunes.  
>  
He dumped his armload of wood down next to a ring of large rocks that Rodney was setting around a pit he'd dug in the sand. "Remind me that I owe Ronon something very nice for all his lessons on survival and his insistence that we refresh on it regularly." Rodney said. "I'm so damn cold I don't' think I'd have remembered how to do this if he hadn't made us take each of the new gate teams out for those three-day excursions last month."

John gave a soft chuckle, feeling just a little bit of the tension leave him at Rodney's' banter. "Rodney, you did nothing but complain the whole time we were gone on those."

Rodney shrugged. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean I didn't learn something." He finished placing the rocks and stacked the wood in an orderly pile, then stuffed some of the dried, yellow grass underneath it. He used the lighter he'd retrieved earlier and lit the tinder. Rodney watched it intently for a few minutes, blowing a few soft puffs of air, then sat back on his haunches when the bright little tongues of flame began to lick at the branches. "There we go," he said, then rocked up to his feet. "Now, get undressed."

John started. "Huh?"

"We need to get out of these wet clothes. They're just going to contribute to the incipient hypothermia, unless we get them off and get dry."

Right, John knew that. He backed away from the fire and fumbled at the buttons of his over shirt. They were slick and he couldn't seem to get his fingers to cooperate. He finally just lifted the whole thing over his head, taking his t-shirt with it. Bare-chested, the chill air seemed to sap whatever adrenaline-fueled warmth that was left in him and he began to shiver violently. He managed to kick off his boots and slide his BDU's down his hips and step out of them but then he didn't know what to do next.

Rodney, stripped down to sodden boxers just as John was, came over and guided him back to the fire, which was burning cheerily. "Come on, John. Let's get warmed up by the fire and then we can see what spare clothes we've got, okay?"

John let Rodney lead him back to the fire, and the heat radiating up from it felt like heaven. Before Rodney could pull away from him though, John turned to him and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Rodney sort of flailed for a minute in John's arms, like he didn't quite know what to do. But then he went still and relaxed, and his arms came around John and he hugged back just as tight. "It's okay, John." Rodney said softly, his hot breath ghosting over John's nape.

"I know, Rodney," John replied hoarsely. "Just... " God, how did he even put this into words. They were cold and clammy and almost naked and hugging, and John didn't ever want to stop. He didn't know if it was the encounter with the Iratus bug, or the fact that they'd been chipping away the fragile boundaries of their relationship all day, but this just felt so right. "You burned that fucking boat for me, Rodney." And yeah, that was inane, but it was the only thing John could say that summed it all up.

A laugh tickled his neck, because yeah, Rodney got it. "You'd have done the same for me, Sheppard."

John nodded against Rodney's shoulder, because that was true. He would have. Finally after letting the hug, or embrace or whatever it was, go on way too long, John drew back slightly, but didn't let go. He took it as a good sign that Rodney seemed just as inclined to keep his arms where they were. "Yeah," he said softly when he could see Rodney's face, "you know I would. Whatever it takes, Rodney."

The air between them warmed and John found himself drawn to Rodney's eyes. They were deep cobalt and sparking with the reflections of dancing firelight. He couldn't stop himself from leaning forward again, to press his mouth against Rodney's. He felt Rodney's indrawn breath sweep across his lips, and started to pull back, and then the gentle pressure and soft, tentative movement was returned.

Rodney's chill lips warmed rapidly, becoming lush and pliant under John's. And when John let his tongue tease against them, Rodney opened to him immediately. A low, needy groan worked its way out of John's throat and he tightened his grip on Rodney's arms. In response, Rodney's hands slid up his back and one curved around his shoulder blade while the other threaded through his hair and drew John's head closer, locking their mouths tighter together.

They kissed hungrily and desperately, and it was only when John realized that he was working a hand down Rodney's belly and encountered the damp boxers that he finally drew back. Breathing heavily, he forced himself to release his desperate grip and leaned away to get some distance. "Um..."

Rodney stepped back also, holding his hands up and staring at them like he didn't have any idea what they'd just been doing.

"That was..."

"Yeah," Rodney agreed just as breathlessly. "It was."

John crossed his arms over his chest, as much to avoid temptation as anything else, and looked warily at Rodney.

Rodney looked up from his hands, meeting John's gaze and his expression seemed torn between confusion and desire.

John scrubbed a hand through his hair, "We should probably talk about this." Much as John was loathe to suggest more conversation, he knew they couldn't just ignore this or forget it ever happened. He didn't _want_ to forget this happened.

"But not here," Rodney stated, very matter-of-fact despite the tremor in his voice.

"Right," John agreed. "Not here. This is... I think we're both a little um... stressed, right now. Maybe later? After we get back?"

"Right," Rodney repeated. "When we're back on Atlantis." His hands flipped around in a wild gesticulation. "Not on some beach, freezing our asses off and worrying about life-sucking super mosquitoes..." he trailed off, eyes narrowing.

"Rodney?" John asked, "What is it?" That he'd broken off on the 'super mosquitos' had John's heart lurching.

"Is that a Jumper?"

John spun around and looked skyward. Against the bruising violet a black shape could be seen skimming low along the horizon and getting closer. John would know that awkward silhouette anywhere. "Yes it is," John confirmed with a sigh of relief. "Looks like Lorne found my note."

"Oh thank god!" Rodney grinned. "I didn't relish the idea of spending the night on this beach," he glanced over at John expression suddenly guilty, "with those bugs out there, I mean." He ducked his head and looked away. "Um, I'll just... pack up our gear?"

"Yeah, sounds good, Rodney." John picked up one of the remaining driftwood branches and stuck an end in the fire. Blanched dry, it caught quickly and John lifted the make-shift torch and waved it back and forth. He saw the exterior lights on the Jumper flash on and off in quick succession. "They've got us," he shouted to Rodney and tossed the stick into the fire.

"Here," Rodney handed over a bundle of cloth. "Dry boxers and a t-shirt," he explained. "I figure you don't want to greet Lorne and his team in nothing but wet underwear."

John felt his cheeks burn, but took the proffered items. "Thanks. Yeah, don't want to give Lorne and his team any more fodder. We're already two up on them for ending up almost naked on missions."

Rodney sniffed haughtily, "That thing on M4R-342 should absolutely not count. We agreed that off-world ceremonies that we _volunteer_ to participate in shouldn't count against us." He turned his back to John, shrugging his own t-shirt on.

It took effort, but John made himself look away while Rodney stripped off the damp boxers. "Yeah," he agreed as he got into his own clothes, "Lorne and I have debated that one. He swears up and down that we made them take a hit that time Parrish agreed to be stripped down and dunked in that vat of syrup."

"Yes, but that was on a technicality," Rodney argued. "Parrish didn't have to take his clothes off for that, he just chose to."

John gave a soft laugh. "Well, we'll be takin' a hit on this one, that's for sure."

Rodney's responding laugh might have been edging just a little bit towards hysterical, but John took the fact that he was trying for normalcy to be a good sign.

A few minutes later the Jumper set down several yards further down the beach. The rear hatch opened, and Lorne stepped out, flanked by a pair of marines. "Hey, Sir. Thought we'd stop by and see if you guys could use any marshmallows," he said with his very best, insolent, shit-eating grin.

"Nice of you to offer, Colonel," John returned, "but I think we're ready to blow this pop stand. Glad you found us."

"Nice of you to light that floating signal fire, Sir," Lorne said with a laugh. "Effective use of local resources."

John rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Well, I can't take credit. That was McKay's doing, because there was an Iratus bug, but thanks."

At the words 'Iratus Bug', Lorne's hand dropped to his weapon.

"At ease, Colonel," John told him lightly. "We haven't seen any signs of more. The one on the boat poked its ugly head out while we were paddling across the damn lake."

Lorne winced and then gestured to John's state of undress. "So you had to swim for it?"

"Yeah. It was damn cold."

"I'll bet," Lorne agreed. His eyes were bright with mirth, but he kept his expression straight. "Well, we've got a nice warm Jumper and some blankets inside."

"Sounds great, Lorne." He turned back to the beach. "C'mon, Rodney," John waved him over. "Much as I'm enjoying our camp out, what'dya say we get outta here."

Rodney, who'd handed off sodden uniforms and gear to the marines and was kicking sand over their fire, shot back with, "Aw, already, Colonel? We didn't even get a chance to sing camp songs, or make S'mores."

"I'm sure we can manage to scrounge some marshmallows and graham crackers when we get back to the city," he said. "And then we can go on a real camping trip and you can show Ronon your awesome fire-making abilities."

Rodney snorted as he passed by John and stepped inside the Jumper. "I look forward to it."

"Yeah," John said, meeting Rodney's eyes for the briefest moment, "me too." He followed Rodney inside.

Sergeants Brennen and Meacham were waiting with blankets already unfurled and John and Rodney took them, wrapped up and sat down opposite each other on the benches. They didn't say much as Lorne piloted them back to the gate.

"I've radioed Ronon and Teyla to let them know that we found you," Lorne reported once the Jumper was in the atmosphere, "and we're bringing you back to Atlantis."

Rodney started to stutter a protest, but Lorne cut him off. "Woolsey's orders, Doc." Rodney harrumphed noisily and settled into sullen silence. John couldn't blame him. Much as he wanted a shower and some warm dry clothes, he didn't like leaving half of his team behind, or feeling like he didn't finish the mission.

"I also dropped Major Perlman off in Carone. He'll bring Ronon and Teyla back in the other Jumper."

"Good work, Lorne. Thanks," John said wearily, leaning his head back against the bulkhead and closing his eyes.

When he opened them again, it was to the Jumper hatch lowering and a medical team waiting in the Jumper bay. He looked over to see that Rodney had dozed off as well. He got up and shook Rodney's shoulder. "Hey, McKay. Wake up. We're home."

Rodney stirred, and then blinked muzzily up at him, "Oh, good." He let John help him up and steady him while Lorne's team shifted to give them room.

Keller clucked her tongue as they trudged out in their underclothes and wrapped in blankets. John might have been embarrassed, but this wasn't the worst he'd come back through the gate wearing. At least he _had_ clothes this time. He let himself be chivvied into a wheelchair with only minimal protests that he was fine and could absolutely walk to the Infirmary. He knew in the long run it was easier to comply. Words like hypothermia and Iratus bug were enough to ensure that Keller was going to take all necessary precautions.

Obviously Rodney felt the same as John because he just slumped heavily into the wheelchair and waved the nurse guiding it on. Lorne accompanied their convoy long enough to let John know that he was going to report in to Woolsey and get a return ETA from Ronon and Teyla. It was Lorne's way of telling John that he was going to handle things and John should take it easy. John nodded his thanks.

Once in the infirmary, John insisted that Rodney be examined first, and he settled on a gurney to wait. He watched Keller and Rodney interact and could see the way the tension lingered between them. She was tentative and careful and unfailingly polite and Rodney didn't complain nearly as much as he normally would have if Carson or Biro were the one doing his exam and taking samples.

He thought about the last time he'd seen them in the infirmary together, gauged this scene against that one, and decided that they were slowly getting more comfortable around each other. He figured a few more weeks and maybe Rodney would be able to come in here and not get that kind of narrow-eyed, confused look that he had right now.

"So I understand you went for a swim, Colonel?" Keller said lightly. She'd finished up with Rodney and made John hop up on the scanner.

John shot a sly grin at Rodney and then turned the straightest, most bland expression on Keller that he could manage. "Yeah. Figured it was safer in the water than in the boat with a bug." He huffed a laugh. "Water was cold though. Damn cold."

He saw Rodney's eyes widen in alarm.

"Yep," he went on, knowing that Keller was only paying him half a mind, focused as she was on checking his vitals and then prepping his arm to draw blood, "the whole time we were swimming I kept thinking of this part in a movie. It was one of those big blockbusters. Pearl Harbor maybe?" He feigned ignorance. "Anyway, I just remember this guy is talking about how he fell in a lake when he was ice fishing and described just how cold that was. Something like thousands of knives stabbing into you and you can't breathe." He mock shuddered. "Pretty accurate, I'd say."

Keller looked up from the vial that was filling with John's blood, lips thinned and she shook her head. "Oh that movie," she said with disgust. " _Titanic_."

"Right!" John snapped the fingers of his hand that didn't currently have a needle in it. "That's right. That was in _Titanic_."

"Did you know they got that part all wrong?" Keller sounded positively affronted, practically tossing John's blood samples onto a tray as she finished up. "Lake Wissota, that's the name of the lake that Jack is talking about. It's not a natural lake and it didn't even exist when the Titanic sailed."

"Oh, really?" John asked; the picture of sincere interest.

Behind her, John could see Rodney biting his lip together to hold in his laughter. John winked at him. Oblivious, Keller went a bit longer, griping about how it wouldn't have taken more than a five minute internet search to figure that out, and that there were plenty of other lakes around Chippewa Falls they could have mentioned.

She finally looked at John and he must not have been doing as good a job disguising his humor as he thought because she stopped talking and she spun to look at Rodney, who only had a good poker face when it was really important. This? Was not one of those times.

Keller's mouth pursed into a moue of distaste. "Really, Rodney," she said sharply. "I thought you got that out of your system."

Rodney threw his hands up, waving them defensively. "That wasn't me. I can't help it if Sheppard's a fan of terrible movies."

John just spread his hands innocently. "Don't know what you're talking about."

Keller rolled her eyes. Yeah, she wasn't buying his bullshit. "Well, you're both fine. Both of your scans came back clear and I'll run your labs to make sure there weren't any harmful microbes or bacteria in the water, but I won't keep you here. A hot shower and some dry clothes and then a good night's sleep is my recommendation."

Rodney grumbled about being released probably just because Keller didn't want to put up with John and his bad sense of humor, and if they caught some kind of alien dysentery from the water, he was going to file a complaint. Keller just took it in stride and told him it to suck it up and get some rest. It was actually good to see Rodney being Rodney around her. John realized he really was okay with Keller. She did a good job and stayed pretty level-headed with everything the Pegasus galaxy threw at them. And maybe it was easier to be around her now that she and Rodney weren't together and he didn't have to fight down the urge to snap at her whenever Rodney tempered himself on her behalf.

John hopped down from the infirmary bed. "You got it, Doc."

He waited for Rodney to join him, and then followed the other man out of the Infirmary. They didn't speak as they made their way to the transporter, and then down the long hallways of the city. There was an anticipatory quality to their silence, and John didn't want to be the one to break it.

Nearing the living quarters, John paused and gestured down the corridor, "I'm going to head to my room. Do what Keller says."

"Right," Rodney made a similar gesture, "I'm going to do the same. I'll just uh, see you later then," Rodney said with a questioning nod.

John gave a curt bob of his head. "Right. See ya." Rodney looked at him, almost puzzled and then sighed and began to walk past him, steps slow at first, but speeding up the further he got. John's gaze followed and he thought _that's it_? He didn't want that to be it. He opened his mouth to call after Rodney, found his throat didn't want to work and had to force out a hoarse, "Hey, McKay."

Rodney stopped immediately, as if he'd walked straight into a force field, and then turned to look at him expectantly. "Look, if you feel up to it, stop by later, okay?"

Rodney nodded again, but the tension that seemed to be holding him tight eased enough that John could visibly see his shoulders loosen, and droop down a fraction. "Sure. I'll do that, Colonel."

When he reached his quarters, John had planned on a quick shower and then figured he'd check in with Lorne and find out if the rest of the team was back yet; but as soon as he stepped into the steaming cubicle, all that he could think about was being chilled to the bone and the fear of feeling those damned legs clamped onto his neck. He stood under the hot - almost scalding - spray for a long time, just letting its heat suffuse his whole body. Then he scrubbed down with the rough thoroughness of decontamination protocols. When he finally got out of the shower, his skin was a flushed all-over pink and his hands and feet were well-pruned.

He dressed in jeans and his softest t-shirt, because they were comfortable and he needed comfortable right now. He didn't know if Rodney would show up or not but he wanted to be presentable if he did. To pass the time, he radioed Lorne and got an update that Major Perlman had returned with Teyla and Ronon, and that they'd scheduled a briefing for oh-nine-hundred the next morning.

When John's door chime sounded less than an hour later, John knew who was on the other side. That Rodney didn't just come barging in told John that Rodney was feeling just as nervous as he was about all of this.

Wiping suddenly damp palms on his jeans, John got up and waved the door open. Rodney looked almost startled to see him there. "Uh, hi, Colonel..." he faltered, "um, John. Can I come in?"

John stepped aside to let Rodney in the room. When he turned around after the door slid shut - and he'd taken a steeling breath - he found Rodney sitting on the edge of his bed, looking apprehensive.

"So, um, how're you doing?" he asked, rather clumsily. He wanted to kick himself for resorting to small talk when he knew why Rodney was here.

"Fine, fine. Followed the Doctor's orders and got a hot shower and some dry clothes..." he trailed off, patting his hands on the thighs of his khakis.

"Yeah, same here." John said inanely.

"Look," Rodney blurted at the same time that John said, "So." John waved a hand, indicating Rodney should speak.

"Look," Rodney repeated, "I get that what happened on the beach was the result of some highly stressful and unusual circumstances." John nodded, but felt his stomach drop. _Dammit_ , Rodney was going to try to brush this off. "And if you want to say that's all it was, I'll totally respect that. I won't bother you with this again."

Or maybe not.

"But, see. The thing is, John," he lifted his chin defiantly; "I don't think you realized it, but I was trying to tell you earlier, during that talk we had in the subway car, that I already _know_ how you feel about me."

John blinked.

Rodney _knew_ how he felt?

"But how?" he sputtered. "When?" John couldn't form a sentence if his life depended on it.

"Remember when I came _back_ from the disastrous trip to Wisconsin?" Rodney asked, though it was rhetorical since he didn't wait for an answer. "I called you and told you to meet me on the pier with a six-pack, but I didn't tell you why." He let out a derisive snort. "I didn't want to explain what had happened over the comms. And when you showed up you had this look on your face like a man marching to his death."

He looked up at John, his eyes narrowed in that calculating way that told John he was remembering figuring things out. "At first I couldn't understand why, John. I mean, _I_ was the one coming back from having just broken up with the woman I thought I loved and was going to marry, and you looked worse than me no matter how much you tried to disguise it."

"At the time I rationalized it and figured you'd already heard what happened and were just trying to let me break it to you my own way. But then when I _did_ tell you what happened, that Jennifer and I split, you ... well you didn't seem to react much, _outwardly_ ," he stressed the word. "But, there was a moment right after I said it when you looked..." He gave a helpless shrug, "I don't know how to describe it. It was gone in an instant and you were you usual laconic self after. But, for just a split second you looked like you'd been granted a stay of execution or something. It was just this profound relief."

John remembered that moment all too well. He'd been expecting to hear that Rodney gave her a ring and that she'd said yes. When he got quite the opposite news, he'd been momentarily flummoxed and overcome with relief. He knew he'd let some of that slip, but hadn't realized at the time that Rodney caught on.

"And at first I was kinda pissed," Rodney confessed. "I mean, why would _you_ be relieved when I was going through something so awful. But see, except for that little slip-up, you didn't show it at all. You were great. You were supportive and you gave me beer and you did everything a best friend is supposed to do when you get dumped. So, I figured I'd imagined it."

Again, the look Rodney gave him was one of careful consideration and speculation. "But, the moment stuck with me. And then I started to wonder 'what if'. What if I hadn't imagined it and what if that wasn't the only time you've hidden your feelings from me." He wagged a scolding finger at John, "I've been paying attention since then. I realize I may have been oblivious for a long damn time, which trust me, isn't something I like to admit; but, when I started watching for it?" He smirked. "It got a lot more obvious."

"Honestly I've just been trying to figure out why you hadn't told me. I mean, I know there's the whole guy thing, but you already know I'm open-minded about that. And then, I thought that maybe if I showed a returned interest, you might finally decide to say something. But Christ, Sheppard, I nearly plastered myself onto you in that subway car and gave you opening after opening and you _still_ kept your mouth shut."

Flummoxed, John came over and dropped onto the bed next to Rodney. He rested his elbows on his knees and let his head drop into his hands. He felt Rodney shift on the bed next to him.

"Um, John?"

John made some kind of noise. It might have been a grunt.

Rodney took it as an acknowledgement. "This is the second time we're supposedly having a conversation where _I'm_ the one doing all the talking." An elbow nudged into John's ribs. "You going to participate?"

"What do you want me to say, Rodney?" John asked. What _could_ he say? He'd been absolutely, perfectly convinced that Rodney had absolutely no clue about his attraction. He'd certainly never planned on telling him about it.

"What do I want you to say?" For a minute John wondered if it was possible to hear an eye-roll. "How about anything at all. How about 'you're right, Rodney'. How about 'yes, I've been pining after you for who knows how damn long and was too much of an idiot to ever say anything'. How about 'I'm sorry I was so pathetic and couldn't admit that I'm crazy in love with you, so I'd like to make it up to you in lots of wonderful ways that will include chocolate, groveling and blow jobs'."

John had to chuckle at that. It was kind of a weak and pathetic sound, but he heard Rodney respond to it with an amused sniff of his own.

"Alright," John said slowly, still not ready to stop speaking to his knees, "you're right, Rodney. I've been pining after you for who knows how damn long and was too much of an idiot to say something." He drew in a deep, lung-filling breath. "And I'm sorry I was pathetic and didn't tell you that I'm crazy in love with you and I absolutely will make it up to you in whatever ways you want, especially if those ways involve chocolate and blow-jobs."

"And groveling," Rodney said with another bump of his shoulder into John's.

John looked up, finally, to see Rodney looking at him with such a mixture of affection and amusement and annoyance that he couldn't help but laugh, feeling all his doubts and worries and insecurities get washed away in the sheer force of Rodney's personality. "And groveling," John agreed, as he reached out to pull Rodney too him.

"I'm glad we had this talk," Rodney said against his mouth, and John huffed his laugh into Rondey's lips.

Like the kiss on the beach, this one started tentative and searching for all of a few seconds. Warm and dry, the kiss was even better and hotter and Rodney's mouth was eager and his lips were firm but yielding. John tasted toothpaste and coffee when Rodney's tongue teased at his bottom lip and he sucked it in and nipped after it when it slicked against his.

John's hands tightened in Rodney's t-shirt, fisting the material and stretching it with his desperate grip. He tugged and invited Rodney to lean into him so they could fall back on the bed together. Rodney cooperated immediately, clambering further onto the bed then out of the way so John could stretch his legs out. Then Rodney shifted again, rolling over him as John settled onto the mattress, and moved to straddle John's hips. John could feel the hard length of Rodney pressing into his own hard cock and he arched up against it helplessly.

"That's better," Rodney murmured, and John groaned and reached up to slide his hands under Rodney's shirt and ghost his fingertips over the bare skin of his ribs and back. Rodney shuddered and made a soft noise of agreement when John dragged his shirt up and over his head.

Rodney rocked back on his heels as soon as the top was off, and pulled clumsily at John, "You too," he explained, trying to yank the hem of John's t-shirt out of his jeans. "This works better if we're both naked."

Fully agreeing with that statement, John managed to shrug off his shirt and toss it across the room and then he pulled Rodney down on top of him again, not even minding when Rodney's hands slid on the sheets and he landed hard enough to knock the air out of John in an explosive 'whuff'.

"Sorry," Rodney said, but he was already tonguing the curve of John's ear, and then biting at the tendon in his neck. John canted his head to the side to give him better access and Rodney took the cue for what it was. John couldn't help but whimper as Rodney sucked a spot just below his clavicle at the same time one of those big hands curved over the front of his jeans to teasingly palm his cock. He'd have to remember to compliment Rodney on his ability to multi-task, when he had more than two functional brain cells.

"Wait, wait," John protested breathlessly; though he was half-tempted to let Rodney just keep on going.

Rodney rocked back, looking flushed and pleasure drunk. "What?" he sputtered.

John used a move that he'd picked up during hand-to-hand training with Ronon and got Rodney flipped over onto his back and then threw a leg over him. He shimmied down so that he could pillow his arms on Rodney's chest and said, "I believe I owe you a blow job." And then he began kissing his way down Rodney's jaw, and neck, following the line of his throat to his chest.

"Oh, uh, now?" Rodney's babble really was adorable. "Because yes, right now... right now would be great." His exhale on the end of 'great' expanded into a low groan when John got his fingers hooked around the button of Rodney's khaki's and slipped them open. He trailed his mouth further down and made sure to divert to Rodney's nipples, lapping and then biting at them until they stuck up in tight peaks that he could flick with his tongue, which made Rodney squirm.

John pulled his mouth away from the soft swell of Rodney's belly a few minutes later, kind of thrilled to see the reddened skin that pathed down from his throat, and drew back enough that he could work Rodney's pants and boxers down his thighs, and then push them off entirely. Of course, he forgot that they both still had their shoes on. He got up off the bed to yank them off so he could finish tugging Rodney's khakis and underwear down.

"Sorry," he said a little sheepishly, "forgot about those." He toed his own off and kicked them aside.

"Naked here," Rodney pointed out.

"Uh yeah," John replied, although the sight of Rodney laid out on his bed, chest flushed, nipples tight and bite-reddened, cock jutting up eagerly, kind of made him go a bit nonverbal. He'd never imagined being able to see Rodney like this. Well he _had_ imagined it, but not in a way that he thought would ever become a reality.

Rodney flipped a hand at John. And that was weird; seeing Rodney make such a normal, annoyed 'get on with it' gesture while he was totally naked. "Remember my point about this working better with both of us naked?" his scowl was pure affectation. "Thinking that while you're up you should maybe take the pants off too?"

"Oh! Right, yeah." John had to blink and look away so he could manage the zipper of his jeans without doing himself damage.

He supposed he was due the kind of hungry, covetous look on Rodney's face as his cobalt-dark eyes trailed over him when John turned around. He stood for a moment, letting Rodney look - since it was only fair - and then surged back onto the bed. Rodney made a protesting noise that quickly became a rough moan when John returned his attention to Rodney's wide mouth. He kissed greedily and sucked on Rodney's tongue and nipped at his jaw and then John slid his body down, letting his own cock and his stomach and his chest drag heavily over Rodney's erection. He stopped only when the tip bobbed against his chin and looked up to meet Rodney's eyes.

"Fuck, John..." Rodney's pupils were blown, the thin ring of blue lost against the inkwell black. John grinned his best and most impish grin, and then ducked his chin, letting the tip of Rodney's cock slide against lips. He opened his mouth around it slowly and took him in in a long, easy slide. Rodney gave another broken curse and his hands came up to thread through John's hair.

John sucked softly, not exerting too much pressure, and drew back to glide his tongue along the top length, slick wetly over the tip and trail down the thick vein underneath. He sucked at the shaft and then lipped at that spot just below the tip and then laved the flat of his tongue over the head. Rodney's hips jerked and, his cock slipped back into John's mouth, sliding rather roughly against John's soft palate. John could hear him murmuring a distracted apology but John just hummed and slid his fingers up Rodney's thighs to curl over the span of Rodney's hips, guiding and controlling. He slipped one dexterous thumb inward to press into the base of Rodney's erection, and let the other skim brazenly over the highly sensitive sac below. Once again Rodney's hips surged up, but John used the splay of his hands and weight of his chest on Rodney's thighs to pin him down.

He took Rodney in again, and sucked a little harder. Rodney responded to that with a sharp tug on his hair and a low unintelligible curse. John could feel Rodney's belly tensing and trembling. He drew his mouth back again, torturously slow, holding his lips just at the tip for few seconds while Rodney thrashed and his fingers scrabbled at John's hair, and then he slid back down in a long smooth motion.

"Oh god, John...," Rodney's hands clutched desperately at John's head and neck, not even trying to hold on carefully anymore. John made an encouraging noise, low in his throat and sucked harder as he bobbed his head up and down and swallowed around him.

Rodney came with a ragged, throaty cry, his whole body jerking and bucking beneath John's. John swallowed as much as he could and then let his mouth slip off and eased Rodney through the last few spasms with gentle squeezes of his hand. He dropped his forehead to Rodney's hip for a moment, breathing heavy and feeling the burgeoning rush of his own orgasm recede slightly.

When he recovered enough control, he scooted back up the bed and threw a leg over Rodney's thighs, rubbing himself just a little against Rodney's hip. Rodney had an arm flung over his eyes and was panting like he'd just run a mile.

"Oh my god, John... that was..." he trailed off to catch his breath and John laughed.

"I'll take that as a compliment." John said a little bit hoarsely.

Rodney lifted his arm and rolled his head on the pillow to fix John with a glare. It probably would've been more effective if he wasn't still so flushed and wild-eyed. "You'd better," he grunted. "And when I'm feeling less like a wrung-out, wet rag, I'll return the favor." He swiped at the droplets of come spattering his belly to slick his hand. "In the meantime, you'll just have to suffer with a lousy hand job."

Rodney's hand worked between their bodies, bossily pushing at John until there was enough room between them for him to get his hand wrapped around John's cock. He slid the fleshy pad of his thumb over the swollen tip, and John jerked involuntarily. John could see Rodney grinning lazily as he curled his hand around again and stroked down and then gave a quick upwards tug, milking with his fingers. On the next down stroke he let his fingers keep sliding down, to tease at John's balls.

"Christ," John hissed, and then swallowed around a reedy groan when Rodney squeezed tight as he gave a thrust-twist with his hand down the full length of the shaft, ending with his hand at the base nestled in the dark, springy curls.

Leaning closer, Rodney wrapped his free arm around John's shoulders and then nipped at John's jaw and John turned to meet his mouth, hungrily. John cupped a hand on Rodney's ass - he was so going to pay more attention to Rodney's ass next time - and held on tight while Rodney's hand settled into a steady sweeping-sliding-squeezing rhythm. Within embarrassingly short moments, John lifted his head from Rodney's mouth to gasp out a noise that might have been Rodney's name as he came so hard he saw stars flash behind his tightly squeeze eyelids. "Fuck, fuck... fuck," he panted, "Rodney... "

"Yeah, I know," Rodney said smugly and kissed at Johns chin and throat while John focused on breathing and feeling like he'd just come his brains out.

"Shit, Rodney" he exhaled, a few minutes later when he'd recovered his faculties, "that was so lousy." He huffed a laugh when Rodney slapped a come-sticky hand at him.

"Just for that I'm cleaning myself off on your sheets."

"Whatever," John said with an affectionate laugh.

Spent and sated, John fell back on the bed with a thoroughly blissed-out sigh. Pliant as he was, he pretty much just laid there while Rodney maneuvered him enough to tug a blanket over them and then pulled him close. He snuggled even closer when Rodney draped a leg over him, and he tucked his own knee between Rodney's and flung an arm around his waist. "Should've figured you'd be a cuddler," Rodney grumbled rather tenderly.

"Deal with it, Rodney," John grumped back, equally sappy.

"You know, much as I didn't want to, it's probably a good thing we stopped on the beach when we did," Rodney said a while later, punctuating his sentence with a yawn.

Somewhat distracted with sleepily tracing looping figure-eights around Rodney's nipples, John just made an inquiring 'Hrmm,' noise.

"Because not only would Lorne have come upon his Commander in a compromising position, he'd have also scored double points on the off-world naked game."

John snorted noisily into Rodney's shoulder. Rodney retaliated by pulling the half of the pillow John was using out from under him. Somewhere in the midst of a really pathetic bout of tug-of-war, they fell asleep.

EPILOGUE

Two weeks later the team returned to Carone to follow-up on the trade talks that had been interrupted by their unexpected departure. The Caronen felt horribly guilty about what had happened to them and John and Rodney both had to reassure them that no one blamed them. It turned out - to no one's surprise - that the 'creatures that lurked in the dark' that Tranya and the other scientists had warned about _were_ the Iratus bugs. They were the reason that the Caronen stayed within the boundaries of their city, especially during what was their summer season, when the weather was warmer and the bugs ventured further from their caves.

Despite their previous adventure, Rodney insisted that they retrieve additional power cells from the Carone city 'subway' station and fly them to the stalled subway car so they could complete the trip to the ZPM station. John, Ronon and Teyla went along while Lorne and a squad of marines trailed them in the Jumper (armed with flamethrowers that John had insisted upon).

It had been worth it.

Not only did they find a pristine, fully-charged ZPM, but Rodney practically melted into a drooling puddle of joy at finding more schematics. These for what he speculated was a ZPM charging station. Even before returning to Atlantis he sent the files he'd downloaded back to Zelenka to begin analysis.

At the Caronen's agreement, they also planned to bring in another two teams to investigate the remaining research outposts. Although Rodney didn't think they could top the ZPM, he also knew that if the Ancients had left _that_ behind, they might have left other things of interest as well.

In exchange for their support and continued hospitality and some mutually beneficial trade negotiations (that included swapping the caramel-like cane syrup for chocolate), a buzzing-on-a-ZPM-high Rodney suggested that they install the Caronen's orbital Stargate planet side and scrounge them a DHD so they could cultivate their own trade relationships with other worlds. This was met with stunned and overwhelming gratitude.

John stood at Rodney's shoulder while First Administrator Dorton wrung his hand almost like he never wanted to let go. "Yes, well," Rodney was saying, rather magnanimously, John thought, "it's the least we can do for you and your people."

Rodney finally had to yank his hand away while Woolsey added, "We've already got a team working to find you a DHD, that's the device that controls the Stargate," he explained, "and after we get that set up and running, we can have another team come down and instruct you in its use and provide you the gate addresses of several of our allies."

They left Woolsey to finish up the formalities, as John had begged one more favor of the Caronen. He wanted to take Rodney joyriding in one of the Caronen vehicles.

He guided Rodney away from the First Administration building, skirting the main paths lest any more of the Caronen try to intercept them, _again_ , to shake Rodney's hand or express their thanks through tributes and gifts of good and food - not that Rodney objected to the food, but they were going to run out of room in the Jumper at this rate - or, in one case, hug him. (That had been Tranya, and Rodney had just held his arms up and let the man get it out of his system.)

"You know," John said when they were finally away from the press of bodies, "I fully expect that they'll have erected a statue of you in front of the First Administration building the next time we come back."

Rodney tried to look humble, and failed miserably at it. "Oh, I don't know. They seemed pretty taken with Woolsey."

"Yeah, but Woolsey didn't tell them that their place in the galaxy just got a whole lot bigger."

Rodney looked smug. Rightfully so, John thought. "It worked out pretty well, didn't it? Always nice to make new friends, get to play with cool technology, find a ZPM."

"Yeah, can't disagree with that." He looked around as they walked, taking in the neatly paved roads, landscaped greenery and rough-brick buildings. "Nice enough place, wouldn't want to live here, though." His eyes sparkled as he gave John a sideways smile. "Hell of an insect problem."

John glared.

"John," Rodney said with a note of concern a short while later, looking around them to finally realize where they were headed, "the Jumper's not parked this way." He gestured at the row of three-wheeled cars parked at the end of a quiet street.

"I know," John replied with a playful grin. "But before we go, I wanted to go recreate another scene from Titanic."

"You'd better be talking about the scene in the back of the car with the steamy windows, Sheppard," Rodney cautioned, even as he let himself be tugged along, "because I am so not getting naked and posing for you... and no way am I standing at the front of a flying Jumper with my arms out like some kind of idiot."

"Aw c'mon, Rodney," John grinned lasciviously, and manhandled Rodney into the back seat of one of the cars, "you're totally the king of the world..."

"Sheppard?" Rodney's muffled, but clearly aggrieved voice could be heard from just outside of the rigorously rocking vehicle some time later, "are you humming _My Heart Will Go On_?"


End file.
